The Lords of Light and Dark
by DarkWeasel01
Summary: Harry is much more than simply the Boy-Who-Lived, but with his parents mistaking his brother for the Savior of the Wizarding World and a supposedly psychotic Dark Lord that's seemingly not so bad what is he supposed to do? Severus has found a glimmer of compassion and Draco is one hell of a possessive best friend. What's Harry to do? (Warning: does include some abuse)
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Hey guys, so this is my first fanfic. It is a Voldemort and Harry ship and has a lot of Severitus (meaning Severus himself is going to be OOC, as it is simply against his nature to really enjoy or willingly take care of kids in my own opinion). I would appreciate it if you don't like the coupling that you don't read. I don't want any flames, but if am willing to listen to constructive criticism. I do plan for this to be a story, but while I have a general outline of where I want to go with it is also like som input from all of you, to know what you'd like to see and what your opinions are. I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the world, the characters, or the concepts of the storyline. Only those variations made by me that are not canon actually belong to me.

Ch. 1

Harry Potter wasn't born normal. He was, however, born small. Small and sickly. He had trouble breathing and weak lungs, and as a consequence he very rarely cried. He weighed only 4 pounds and 5 ounces. Despite his small size, however, he was, in fact, a very beloved child. His parents loved him very dearly and constantly worried for their smallest and youngest child. Harry himself didn't understand their worry until he grew, at which point the breathing issues affected him. Once this began happening he was very thankful to have such caring parents.

However he still wasn't quite... Normal. Physically he was pristine (aside from his bad lungs). His hair grew in in droopy black ringlets, the color of his father's inky raven hair mixed with the gentle curl of his mother's, and he had the greenest eyes you'd ever seen. Greener even then his own mother's, which was quite the accomplishment in itself. They sparkled like pools of liquid emerald, wide with curiosity. But while he was a very handsome child, he was also very peculiar.

For some reason little Harry always acted out when his elders used magic around him. He would count a bit. Or sputter as though the magic in the air bothered his lungs. This, of course, worried his parents even more, and it became a constant source of worry for the family as a whole. His parents, as a result, tried not to do too much magic around him. They feared he'd be a squib (not that they'd love him any less, but...) and they most certainly didn't want that, especially if it was preventable...

His brother, however, was vastly different from him. Where little Harry had full cheeks his brother's bulged like that of a squirrel, and where Harry was silent and observing he was loud and boisterous. They named him (the eldest twin) Charlus after his grandfather. He, rather unlike his twin, was very large. He came out at nearly double his brother's own height and weight at 8 pounds and 9 ounces. Red hair adorned his head, though it seemed more of a diluted brown color, and dazzling hazel eyes peered from beneath the scraggly fringe. He looked like his father, though his hair was much lighter.

Charlus was physically stronger than his brother, but over all was merely an average child. There was nothing peculiar or spectacular about him, nothing to set him apart from the countless other children born everyday... Funnily enough James himself was overjoyed at the revelation, and took a liking to the louder son. That was to be expected; no matter how much James loved both of his children he was bound to enjoy the company of one over the other, just as some people were more inclined to the company of dogs than cats.

However, it wasn't until they reached the tender age of two (they'd just turned two a few months back) that everything began falling apart. It was a cool fall day, Halloween in fact, that the unfortunate mishap occurred. Harry was quietly sitting in his crib, a small, colorful book propped in his stubby hands, as his mother doted upon his wailing brother, who had grown spectacularly in recent months. Charlus had become quite the cute child with his wide face and cute hazel eyes, but he always demanded attention. He always received it as well.

The conclusion that Harry came to was that he should keep quiet, since his mother seemed very frustrated with his brother when Charlus acted out. Harry didn't like the screaming his brother produced, and couldn't imagine his mother liking it all that much either. Harry personally thought it was a waste of time to continue screaming... But he supposed seeing as Charlus got whatever he wanted because of it, perhaps there wasn't anything wrong with it. After all, his parents wouldn't reward being naughty, would they?

Harry had to stop a moment to ponder the thought. Harry hadn't ever met other kids, but he was certain other Mommys and Daddys probably didn't reward such behavior. Maybe his could afford to do it since they could get as far away from the noise as they liked? But that couldn't be it, since they'd been moved by the old man with the Ice eyes to a much smaller house a few months back. Harry wasn't sure why, exactly, but he knew it had something to do with a 'bad man', which was what his mother had told him when he'd asked.

Now though Harry was young he comprehended everything around him in almost vivid detail. He could have talked, probably in coherent sentences even (his pronunciation would have been butchered a bit, but that was to be expected as he was only two), but refused to. His brother had yet to produce such elaborate sounds (he was limited to choppy phrases like 'Ma', 'Da', and his favorite, 'No'), and Harry would wait until he could. That was how it had always been.

When Charlus was given something from his parents Harry, as the youngest, always received his second. It was natural in his mind. The only thing he did that Charlus could not in front of his elders was read (his Uncle Remus taught him), but most of the time the grown ups around him only laughed, encouraging it as though they doubted his ability to comprehend the material. That in itself was amusing to the smaller twin.

But back to the story, Charlus still hadn't stopped screaming, even with the gentle, soothing voice of his mother to rock him back to sleep. It simply wasn't enough. The red haired woman heaved a sigh before placing him in the crib alongside a large stuffed black dog. This stuffed dog was a present from their 'Uncle Sirius' for their last birthday. Harry had his own, which sat snugly in his lap, that was a medium sized brown wolf. It was soft, oh so soft, and Harry always took good care of him. His name was Moony, after what his parents occasionally called 'Uncle Remus'.

Uncle Remus liked him a lot. Uncle Sirius did too, but rarely payed all that much attention to him, as Harry was very quiet and shy. Uncle Sirius liked Charlus better, he thought. But that didn't really matter to Harry. Uncle Remus liked him much better than Charlus, and always placed him on his lap or hip when he came to visit. Uncle Moony tensed when Charlus was near, as though he couldn't handle the energy or screaming of the child... But not when Harry was with him. When Harry was with him he'd hum, or read, or sometimes he'd even cook. Uncle Remus was a good cook. He made the best cookies, and sometimes he let Harry help him! But his Uncle only let him get the ingredients, and help put the cookies on the sheet since Harry was still very small.

He also helped when Harry had asthma attacks. These attacks panicked his parents and Uncle Remus seemed the only one able to keep a cool head during them, though the crease near his eyes always showed his worry for the smaller twin. He would calm Harry during these attacks, as they were very frightening and stressful to both his small body and mind.

Uncle Remus stayed with Uncle Sirius, since they were best friends and Uncle Remus got sick every month and needed help like Harry did. That's what Uncle Remus told him anyway. He said he was something called a werewolf, like the human-dogs in his picture books! He still remembered the minute his favorite uncle had proclaimed it. Harry had rushed to his bookshelf with startling speed (at the time it sure surprised his Uncle) and grabbed the volume he was looking for from the shelf. After flipping gently to the appropriate page he'd toddled back up to his Uncle, holding out the book with reverence.

The look on his Uncle's face had been astounding. His jaw had dropped and his eyes had widened in shock. Sandy brown wisps of hair floated downwards when he saw the picture the child held. He couldn't believe it! There, in front of him, was a cartoon drawing of a tall anthropomorphic wolf! He peered over the pages, strait into glowing emerald eyes. Harry's pink rose petal lips were quieted in a tentative smile, and in his other hand he help the chestnut wolf that Remus, himself, had given the child.

The small boy with his shoulder length black ringlets, his button nose, and his rosy cheeks made an adorable picture. Those wide eyes stared into his own amber pair and he found his shocked eyes softening, a smile brought to his face. The child made a small whimper of encouragement and nudged the book nearer to him, urging him to take it. He did, and felt his own smile widen alongside that of the child.

The small wolf was hugged gently against his cub's chest with one hand while the other rose to point at him. The lips moved and a small, musical lilt wafted to his ears. The child only said two words, but it was enough. The pronunciation was quite clear and well done for someone still young, and he understood the words as soon as they were said.

The adorably butchered pronunciation of "Unca Moowny" had him laughing loudly and hugging the smiling child to him. It was only when the little one's musical giggles joined his own that his other Uncle (Sirius) burst through the door, eyes wide as they swept back and forth throughout the room before landing on the laughing duo.

Sirius had calmed down after that, but still passed his friend a curios glance. Remus shook it off with a wave of his hand, proclaiming he would tell him later. Lily and James grouped through just a second after with a screaming Charlus in hand.

Charlus was chubby by that point. One of the only ways to quiet him was to offer to sweets or something of benefit to the child, and while Lily never gave in his father would almost every time proclaiming "his son would want for naught". It was a good sentiment, but it certainly didn't benefit his eldest child. For Harry, however, it seemed to good to be true. He'd never eaten a lot and he rarely played with toys, preferring to loose himself in the pictures and short words of his story books, so he found himself with a large variety of children's books and journals, and even a set of first year Hogwarts textbooks though he couldn't, for the life of him, understand them (he liked to pretend, though).

But that was in the past (and the past to him meant just a few days ago) and this was now. Right now his brother continued to scream, refusing to sleep until his father came in and handed him a chocolate bar, cooing down at the larger of the two. His father's eyes lit up as he watched his eldest boy coo back at him, gurgling butchered squeals of 'DaDa' as his twin could not form coherent sentences, only a few phrases. He only glanced at Harry once his eldest was deeply asleep, and took in the image his smallest and youngest son created.

Admittedly his youngest son looked almost nothing like him. Even the fine quality of his deep black hair was different now then it had been just a few months prior (when it had mimicked his). Where his own was grey in the sun that of his child's was a glittering bluish purple, like a raven's feathers. His green eyes were just a shade lighter than his wife's and he had gained her heart shaped face. His eyes were wide and framed with the thickest coal black lashes he'd ever seen. He was much skinnier than his brother, though still a healthy weight (he was well-cared for with his doting mother and uncle, after all), and Harry gazed back at him. A small thumb dipped between pink lips and rosy cheeks flexed gently as he sucked on the small appendage.

He held a book in his lap and had the other arm slung securely over the wolf plush he'd been given for his birthday. James would have laughed if he hadn't been so utterly captivated; the wolf was as big as his son, and it made quite the comical site. He let his eager smile soften as his eyes took in the small being.

His youngest looked more like a girl than a boy (he wanted to laugh; surely it would make for some funny teasing as the boy grew), with his buoyant black curls and thick lashes. He wore simple green footy pajamas which he snuggled into... And those eyes, so very much like his mother's, traced James' every move. The intelligence within them was almost staggering; the very opposite of his elder twin brother, whose eyes always seemed glassy or confused. No, these eyes were strangely curios.

"Hey, buddy," he spoke gently, reaching into the cradle as he did so. The boy didn't raise his arms or make grabbing motions as his brother did, and he stayed perfectly pliant until he rested in his father's arms, head cradled in the fold of his elbow. His stuffed wolf was left in the crib alongside the book whose pages lay askew. Harry fit so perfectly there and James tried to think back on the last time he'd held the child so close, so personally. He couldn't remember, and for some reason that made him want to cry.

Those eyes stared back at him and he watched, rocking gently back and forth, as his younger son's eye lids drooped in exhaustion. He smiled when the little one laid his small head against the crook of his arm, and laid him gently back into the cradle. The babe curled against the stuffed animal (hugged it possessively was more like it) with his thumb still firmly in his mouth. James smiled down at him, removing the book so he didn't accidentally roll over it in his sleep and gently tucking the covers in around the small body.

He was going to check the child's diaper, remembering he'd had to change Charlus' just a short while ago, but found no diaper there. Instead he felt the waist band of small briefs through the thick fleece of the footies and wondered, startled, when his son had so suddenly become potty trained. He frowned before turning out the lights and looked back at both his children, eyes lingering on his eldest before the smile came back and he trotted back down the hallways to join his wife downstairs.

Harry had only been sleeping for about an hour before he heard a loud crash. Immediately the high wailing of his brother filled the room and he felt displeasure twist in his gut. His small thumb popped out of his mouth as he stood in his crib. The bars jiggled gently under the new weight, but otherwise held. He was still too weak yet to open the crib, but he was old enough to walk (and even run; he loved running), even though his brother still stumbled.

He frowned as the screaming downstairs (his father and mother, he was certain) abruptly cut off. In the chaos his brother had yet to stop screaming, and he distinctly heard and felt a large presence drawing closer to the room. He frowned slightly, whimpering a bit.

There was an undeniable presence along the staircase. It was huge; massive in fact. It was the same presence his mother and father gave off, and (to a much lesser extent) his brother as well. He, too, gave off this unknown power. His mother and father and Uncles referred to it as 'magic' and promised he'd use it one day too (of course they had no clue he could actually understand them quite well when they'd told him).

They didn't know he already could... Then again it didn't always work. He'd done it quite a few times before, when his father and mother were busy doting on his brother he found himself summoning his wolf stuffy, Moony, or even a bottle. Or when he ran around outside and wanted an apple from the trees along the woods in the backyard and couldn't reach them. He distinctly remembered just the other day having this same issue, and watched longingly as the branch slowly and steadily extended towards him, almost asking him if he'd like one. He had giggled and thanked the tree before trotting off, apple in hand (those his small teeth had a hard time puncturing the thick his of the sweet fruit). Sadly whenever he said something to his mother and father they seemed too busy to listen, so eventually he learned to let it lie.

Now it seemed important, especially since the presence was growing closer, constricting the lungs in his chest and causing him to heave in air. His small diaphragm rose and fell rapidly as the door burst in, shattering and splaying wood everywhere. Splinters flew through the air, splattering harshly against the wooden floor surrounding both cradles. One of the larger pieces hit his brother's shoulder and cut through the thin fabric and into the tender flesh. Harry himself was lucky he hadn't been caught in the blast, and his brother was even luckier he'd only been hit once.

Harry, still stunned, could only take in the sight of his now disheveled and bleeding brother, who continued to wail. Thick crocodile tears made thick tracks along his chubby cheeks and rolled softly onto the duvet underneath him. Harry's own eyes were captivated by the crimson liquid which was now entangling itself into his brother's blue pajamas, which were the same style as his own. A sudden laugh, a harsh one, brought him out of his trance. His head swiveled to the side, taking in the picture of the door, wide open.

There was a man there; a handsome man. He looked like the pretty elves his mother read to him about. He didn't seem nearly as nice, though, those elves were supposed to be kind. They healed others! This man, however, gave off a rather scary presence... Like he wanted to hurt him...

The man had high cheek bones and a square jaw. They were rather masculine,,and almost offsetting with his long hair. However balance was restored by the almond shaped eyes and the fine elegance with which the man walked. His hair was mahogany, and long, about down to his waist, in fact... And he was tall. He was very tall. Taller than father. In fact his head stopped only a few inches short of the doorway, and his thin eyes glittered a fine ruby red color. He had thin lips that twisted upwards in a mockery of a grin, and he held what his father had so often referred to as a wand in his right hand.

Harry frowned a bit at the tall man, making a gurgling noise as it got harder to breathe. Once again his respiration picked up, and he soon found himself the center of attention. Harry watched those red eyes flicker to him, flashing briefly before settling. The grin turned downwards and the man's aura flashed, causing Harry to sputter once more. The man blinked and flashed his aura again, stronger this time. Harry cried out momentarily, before finding that, all at once, he could breathe very clearly again.

Harry settled as his breathing slowed. He gripped his wolf plushy tighter, staring up at the man as he drew closer. He watched as the man glanced to the side at his brother, irritated, before muttering something that ceased all noise in the room, save for his own steady breathing and the footsteps drawing nearer to him.

Harry felt his own magic fluctuate as the being got closer, trying to repel him away. His magic was smart; it had always tried to protect him. It helped him get food, and sleep soundly, and it even helped him land safely when Charlus shoved him. Harry thought this was a normal reaction. As his magic was part of him it should protect him, right? But apparently it wasn't, because the man's eyes widened as he was thrown back several feet and onto his back. He looked really surprised, and Harry found himself flinching back a bit from the elder being.

Tom glanced at the child, no older than two years and a half, who seemed enveloped in raw, whipping power. He felt himself salivate at the mere touch of such power, and grinned slightly at the wide eyed child. Yes, prophecy child indeed. So then this had to be the child! The one to match his own skill, the one who held the power to bring him to his knees! How wonderful! He wanted to laugh, but thought that inappropriate at the moment. So instead he got to his feet once more, hands out in a placating gesture, and headed towards the child.

The little one stared up at him, eyes almost accusing in their intensity. This one, this child, was Harry, if Wormtail was correct. He was the smaller of the two, and often had trouble breathing, which had been caused by his overly sensitive lungs. Strange, he thought, that this should be the child to surpass his strength when it was his brother who was larger, louder, and even now continued to rebel against him (the boy was still screeching beyond the silencing spell). Tom would have laughed at the irony if those captivating emerald pools had released his attention for more than an instant.

Yes, the child would have been perfect, he thought. He smiled slightly at the little one as he neared the crib. The babe popped his thumb into his mouth while his other hand gripped lightly into the soft fur of a wolf plushy that nearly matched him in size. Tom knew of many a woman who would no doubt coo over this scene. If he was being honest with himself he had little trouble admitting that he, too, thought the child must have been one of the most appealing he'd seen thus far (which was a huge complement coming from him; he hated children). Strangely enough though, the child looked a bit like his own baby pictures, which had been given to him by one of the nicer nuns at the orphanage.

Too bad the baby would have to die... After all Tom certainly didn't want anyone defeating him, or drawing his reign to an end.

... But then those damnable eyes, those stupid, awful... Wonderful emerald eyes, filled with moisture. For the first time in a long time Tom found himself panicking, especially when the small child let out the first of a long string of soft, hiccuping sobs. The strangest thing about it, at least to him, was that the child actually didn't make that much noise. Most children would have been bawling at that point, as the boy's brother currently was, but this child (Harry, his mind rebelled and reminded himself) was not. He merely snuffled and hugged his wolf closer.

A brief flash of uncertainty filled him; certainly such a little creature did not have the strength to defeat him. This small thing was too weak, to pitiful, and to utterly pure. In fact To, could have pushed him backwards right now and the little thing probably wouldn't even be able to right himself once more... However, he contradicted himself, I was the same at one point, and Dumbledore (the insufferable fool) still is.

The Dark Lord frowned as he towered over the crib, watching crystal tears leak out of the wide green eyes. The tears and sniffles unsettled him more than he'd ever let on, and soon he found himself pointing his wand directly at the child's forehead.

He certainly had never liked children, but somehow this one felt different... Off even. This little creature reminded him of himself, and perhaps that's what set him off, perhaps that was what caused him to utter the killing curse oh so gently, so as not to startle the child. He wished the little one a swift, painless death, which he had not granted to any other being in many a year. His eyes softened at the glimpse of emerald eyes before they were overtaken with neon.

He stepped back abruptly, expecting the child dead, and felt himself backtrack when the curse seemed to rebound off the unblemished, porcelain skin and to the ceiling. He through up a brief shield until the debris cleared. The ceiling gaped, showing a chasm of the open night sky. Tom stared at the gaping wound in the house's infrastructure momentarily, trying to regain his bearings. Lowering his wand he stepped forward, eyes and mouth both wide in awe, as he witnessed the child, exhausted and with drooping eyes, remain sniffling and upright. He still had that damnable stuffed wolf in hand.

That wasn't supposed to be possible! The killing curse was irreversible! No one could shield it! Only someone with the power of a god should have that ability... Or someone exceedingly close to death itself... But only Tom himself was close enough to death to do such a thing! Only the Dark and Light Lords respectively (the true Light and Dark Lords, not Dumbledore, that bumbling old fool) could have done such a thing...

But maybe... Tom frowned, paling a bit. He'd known since he'd reached seventeen, when his inheritance had come to him, that he was the Dark Lord. He was Chaos in its truest form. He was the shadows, and the night, and only the true Light Lord or Lady would be his equal, would be able to create balance. His Chaos on its own was too much to handle, but with the right amount of Harmony it wouldn't be an issue. That was what the Light Lord was supposed to do; be his balance.

Tom watched the child with wide red eyes. The Light Lord should have been born a while ago. After all it wouldn't do to have the world falling into complete Chaos (Tom had been on his own struggling to maintain said Chaos for sixty some years, so why of all times would The Lord have been born now?)... But if the birth of said Lord had been prolonged, and if the child before him were said Lord... Well then he belongs to me... Replied his mind. This single thought set off a cacophony of reasons why the boy simply couldn't be the Lord, the one he'd been searching for for so long... But each time his mind was drawn back to the fact that the boy was, indeed, still alive after having repelled the Killing Curse.

Only when crimson dripped into the boy's right eye did he notice the perfectly carved lightning bolt at his forehead and from those emerald eyes. He found himself awed at the slightly gruesome display, and his feet led him forward until he stopped once more before the small cradle.

The child was tired, and his eyes continued to droop, as though he were fighting consciousness. Tom felt something in himself click into place and in the next moment his magic exploded outwards, mingling with the small child's. He watched, dazzled, as it was ensnared in his own, mixing until his own reddish color became a maze of rainbow hues from gold to green. It was beautiful, honestly, but once everything had settled he found himself panicking.

This wasn't the only time such a thing had happened to him. Oh, no. This had happened nearly six times before. Each time it had been with a horcrux.

He frowned deeply, eyes widening as he watched the child gently recline, lying back until his small form lay crumpled backwards (a rather uncomfortable position if you asked him) and Harry fell asleep. The first thought through his mind was Shit... Followed shortly there after bye, how the hell?! This shouldn't be possible. A child shouldn't be able to have the capacity to be able to hold my soul, let alone allow it to thrive! (A sneaky part of his mind told him that the Light Lord would be able to) But after a few moments of thinking it over he realized it might not all be entirely bad. After all, if the child were meant to surpass him he'd be a fine vessel for his soul, would he not? With such protection perhaps the piece could even blossom within the boy!

The more he thought about it the more appealing it sounded. And of course, he added thoughtfully, hand to his chin and eyes alight with vengeance, it would be wonderful to one-up the Old Coot (Another part of him argued it would also do him good to have a means to keep an eye on his Light counterpart). Tom shook his head, having to physically draw himself from his whirling thoughts. He gave a short chuckle before returning his eyes to the bleeding child, reclined uncomfortably in the cradle. The elder Lord paused, as though struggling internally. He frowned deeply after taking a few moments to watch the child shift slightly, trying to rock onto his side and hook his fingers into the stuffed wolf's fur.

He felt a resonance of contentment when the child finally found it, and dragged it closer. However it was spoiled a moment later when a pang of disappointment came through the connection. He watched, fascinated, as the small creature tried to flip itself in unconsciousness and get into a warmer, more comfortable position. He realized the emotions rushing through him were not his own... How curios...

Voldemort found himself reaching gently into the crib and removing the child. He wiped the blood from his head, cooing (and just why in the name of the nine bells was he cooing at the child!?) when the small one squirmed and whimpered. He felt the child's magic come, probing his own. He pushed gently back, similar to how a mother horse would nudge it's foal into its first few steps. He smiled a bit when he felt the magic stutter for a moment before reaching back into his. He repeated the process a few times before caressing the baby's magic with his own, entwining them together.

He watched, fascinated, as the babe smiled, gurgling happily in his sleep, before resting his head at level with Tom's heart. Thinking back the Dark Lord realized it was probably the fact that they had swapped chips of souls, chips of magic, that was making him so at ease with the child (because it couldn't possibly be the fact that the little boy in his arms was The Lord he'd been waiting for all along). The blending of their emotions seemed more like one being as opposed to two, and it gave the older man a warm feeling.

Sadly, it was time for him to go. He could hear Aurors approaching from the street, and he had no desire to get caught. He also knew he couldn't take the child; it would be far too dangerous and he didn't need any unnecessary baggage when he was certain the boy's parents would care for him fine anyway (he also refused to put the boy in harms way when there was even the smallest chance that he could be the Light Lord). With much regret he cast a hiding charm (a rather powerful one) over the scar, which has mysteriously healed in just a few moments. He added another charm to steady it and make sure it would stay rooted there until Tom himself took it off. Only the child himself (as it was linked to his magic and could therefore continue to stick by feeding off of it) would be able to see the scar.

He smiled, laying the child back in bed and returning him to his previous position - wolf in hand and finger in his mouth. He loomed over the cradle for another moment before passing over it and retreating to the other side of the room, where the other cradle stood. The screaming child within it was starting to grate on his nerves, and it certainly didn't help that he had to release the silencing curse. A small incendio was all it took to set the room aflame. Not that it wasn't already in shambles, but this would help with erasing evidence of his passing.

His magic lingered over the larger twin (the silencing charm had been on for quite a long time by that point) and he did nothing to hide it. For the smaller twin, however, he helped settle the magic, and essentially tucked it in (as he'd done to Harry's physical form merely minutes before). He cast one last glance before looking to the door. An explosion of his own magic ripped through the house, causing the windows to shudder and break, before he finally apperated.

When Lilly and James had been released from the simple stunning charm they'd immediately rushed to check on the children. What they found surprised them (though it was a much welcomed surprise). Harry was still sleeping soundly, even as small patches of fire crackled through the broken room. They assumed he'd been peacefully at rest the entire time. Harry was unharmed and looked just as he had when James had tucked him in a few hours back.

Charlus, however, was a much different story. He was sitting up, bawling his eyes out. His right shoulder was bleeding from what appeared to be a cut and a large scorch mark appeared at the end of his bed. Residual black magic swirled around him. It was a very troublesome sight indeed.

Things got worse when Dumbledore showed up and informed the two of a prophecy, one that, apparently, revolved around Charlus (as he so very obviously had defeated the Dark Lord). They'd all felt the burst of dark magic, and the scene in the bedroom pointed all fingers to their eldest. They were proud, very proud, but also worried... Charlus hadn't shown any signs of accidental magic, so why now? Perhaps it was the near death situation? Yes! That must have been it! Dumbledore confirmed this suspicion when he told the couple it was highly probable.

The how's and whys were disregarded in the sheer elation of the situation. It was joyous! The Dark Lord was dead! They needn't suffer anymore! At least not for now... The prophecy Dumbledore spoke of mentioned Charlus having to defeat him yet again! How awful! The old Headmaster suggested they begin training when the boy reached six, as he could then begin to comprehend the material. After all the boy needed to be prepared if he was to save the world, didn't he?

Sadly, in all of this, little Harry remained blissfully asleep. His parents hadn't checked on him after the brief looking over, and Severus had been the one to fish the child from the wreckage.

The potions master was stunned when he'd realized the child wasn't there initially. He'd mentioned it to Albus who merely waved it off, proclaiming the child had been checked on not to long ago and was probably fine. What the younger man found was most definitely anything but fine.

The small child in the crib was hyperventilating. Probably due to the asthma he had heard about previously. That combined with the smoke in the air had to be hard on the infant lungs... But the child wasn't crying. That was the strangest part. His eyes were wide and he clutched at his stuffed wolf, but other then a few whimpers and the heaving of air the potions master heard nothing from the child.

It worried him, and he scooped the toddler into his arms before striding carefully from the house. He held the child close, watching as Harry slowly settled and stilled. His breath evens out until he went limp in the potion master's spindly arms. Harry's head was, once again, tucked near to the man's heart. The steady thumping there relaxed him, and his eyes drooped once more before he was lost to the land of the living.

Severus watched the boy's parents fawn over his elder sibling. Albus stood by their side, his elderly hand gripping that of the toddler that hung in his mother's arms. He had to be held on her hip, as he was too big to be coddled like his brother currently was. How strange, thought the dour man, that they should not leave even a passing glance for this child... He frowned as his eyes drew to the sleepy infant in his arms.

The child looked more like a doll, a porcelain doll, than an actual human being. Something about him seemed delicate, as though he'd break from the merest touch. The runt sniffled in his sleep, cuddling closer to him, as he was the only source of heat. He found a small smile, almost imperceptible, curling the very edges of his lips. He gave a soft snort when the child clung to his robes with the hand that neglected to hold the wolf. The baby, Harry, cooed at him before finding himself a more comfortable position.

"Oh yes, how very much like your father; use others for your own needs." He huffed an almost silent bark of laughter before proclaiming "Brat." though there was no animosity, no venom, behind it. In fact there was something almost fond in his deep brown, almost black, eyes. Those eyes lit up a bit more when the child sniffled once more and again attempted to burry himself in Severus' robes. The potions master reached his other cloaked arm around the child, concealing his burden from view and surrounding him in warmth.

The baby smiled, and strangely enough Severus found himself having the strangest sense that he'd be doing this very often in the future... At least he hoped to.

And indeed the potions master was correct. Those idiots Black and Lupin were considered the boy's Uncles, but never really had time to come and visit (Remus traveled the world as a muggle author and Sirius had enough money to support the luxurious lifestyles of twelve people so he followed his werewolf friend). Lilly was a stay at home mother but claimed Charlus took up all her time, and James was busy with his Auror job (not that he needed it since he, too, was very well off). It took a few weeks but Lilly had finally settled on a godfather for the children (they hadn't when they were born as they were wary of a traitor in their midst). Black (the moron) was chosen for the job.

Unfortunately Black himself was always very busy (pft, ya right). He and Remus were often sent out of country for work and found themselves away from home for long extended periods of time (they were Aurors part time and tended to get more important missions, since they were also Order members). James and Lilly seemed too busy caring for Charlus and/or out on the job, so poor little Harry had virtually no one. Severus knew first hand just how much of a burden the elder twin was; he would cry for nearly half the day until he finally got what he wanted. It was utterly horrendous!

Not to mention senior Potter was encouraging such behavior. It was outrageous! And Albus was already talking about training him, teaching him. Apparently they planned on surpassing a few laws and smuggling the brat child a wand for his ninth or tenth birthday (as it was the youngest age he could procure a wand at), as they were very certain he just had to be a prodigy. After all, he was the chosen one.

However this did not bode well for the younger sibling. Lilly, with her hands tied up in the work of keeping the mansion constantly clean without house elves and tending to Charlus' every whim was worn ragged, and often came to the potions master in hopes he would babysit her youngest. It stunned her the first time she'd seen the dark man holding Harry; he was so gentle. In fact she couldn't ever remember seeing him so gentle, not even with her! It was simply astounding, and she was almost jealous of the way Harry held a constant stream of actually coherent babble with the dour man when they thought no one was looking (she'd certainly never had such happily gurgled phrases directed at her by her son). She'd known then and there that she'd found someone to look after the boy.

It was sad really. James was almost always busy, and when he wasn't he spent his time either with his wife or with his eldest, attempting to teach the fussy child to read. Admittedly it wasn't going very well... It was disheartening. But that wasn't all; he and his wife very rarely had time for Harry, and the little boy often found himself forgetting the child was even there. It scared James sometimes, but in the end Harry seemed to simply make do; he read to himself (Snape continued to teach him) or he would sit quietly and draw. Harry was a very good drawer; fantastic in fact. At the age of seven he produced a small sketch of a deer (James was so utterly proud) that seemed to come alive on the paper without the motion that accompanied normal wizard portraits.

And so Harry continued to grow. But as he grew his parents and even his sibling and Uncles all distanced themselves from him. Charlus, at the age of four, was a bully when no one was there to watch him, and Harry had grown used to sharing a bedroom with him and therefore became the target of such bullying. The only thing Charlus never touched was his sacred wolf stuffy. No one but him was allowed that privilege. No one.

Charlus, surprisingly, grew up to be a decent child, if a bit arrogant and bratty. He had enough manners (his parents would not tolerate rudeness), but he tended only to use them in the presence of the adults. He was amazingly like his father had been at that age (in Snape's opinion) but he wasn't necessarily a mean person. He did, in fact, care deeply for his younger brother, despite popular belief. He just didn't quite know how to show it. In his own mind he viewed it as him being the leader; he was special, he was the Chosen One, so Harry (like everyone else) should listen to him.

His darling younger brother was beloved by all he met (unsurprisingly), and he himself was very well known (he was, after all, the Boy-Who-Loved). Charlus thought he and his brother made quite the wholesome pair, especially as they grew older. His brother was smart; not as smart as him, of course, but smart all the same. As the twins grew they spent less and less time together until Harry eventually grew to resent his brother.

Severus was watching the boy once again. He enjoyed it, yes, but that wasn't the point. The point was that little Harry's parents should be the ones watching him, especially since Lilly was a stay at home mother. However, here he was again (day after day now it seemed) watching the child. He had plenty of money (the entire Prince fortune, in fact), and needn't worry about working at all. It was for this reason (he had enough money so he didn't need to work, and honestly he didn't have anything better to do with his time) that he was such a prime candidate for watching the boy.

He'd never complain about it, though. Contrary to popular belief he actually had come to care very deeply for the child, even more so than his own godson, Draco Malfoy. The child was nine years old (well, he would be tomorrow), and he shown with such intelligence and promise that Severus couldn't possibly withhold it from him. Severus' personal library was always open to the child, and he even let the brat borrow his wand on occasion to practice spells (he was closely monitored all the time, of course).

The progress the child made seemed unbelievable! He was incredibly smart; a genius for his age. He wrote in sprawling cursive script, could draw as well as some of the best fifth year students he knew, and had a fine, articulated speech pattern. Yes, the boy was nothing short of a miracle. Especially when one considered he read all the information he knew. The boy rarely had anyone aside from the potions master and, on occasion, his parents and Uncles to converse with. Since Severus was the primary player in his life Harry had simply adapted his way of doing things; rather than the stocky gait of his brother and father, or even the trot of his mother, he developed the smooth, gliding motions of the long sweeps of his elder's legs. He mimicked the way his brow creased in concentration, and the way he scowled angrily at those he frowned upon. Most amusing to Severus, however, Harry had taken to using his speech patterns. He knew it couldn't be good for the child (spending so much time with Severus and away from his parents), but it was always so amusing whenever he traveled to Diagon Alley and others commented on how much the boy seemed to mimic him.

Of course Harry was vastly different from Severus. For one, Harry wore his heart on his sleeve. He demanded justice of even the smallest transgressions (probably because his own brother was a bully) and always seemed to try and do what his heart told him to. It was an admirable trait, one Severus had always tried to nurture it in the boy. And, unlike his brother, he was constantly exposed to the cruelty of the world. Harry's neglect at the hands of his forgetful parents (Severus was quite sure if could fall into that category now) had leeched any illusions of the happy and perfect family of his that the boy might have had.

Yes, Harry was quite aware of his surroundings. In fact Severus took him on weekly trips to Knockturn Alley to ensure the boy understood that not everything was as it seemed; not everything was entirely Light or Dark, and that there were also Grays. Despite this, however, Harry seemed to remain utterly pure. No matter the gore (he'd seen a man die once; blasting curse to the side down Knockturn Alley) or the horrors (they'd also come a cross a Death Eater who'd been torturing a man out in the open) he remained so strongly righteous and was always courteous of others. It surprised Severus immensely.

What surprised him more was the absorption of knowledge. Harry quite literally soaked information up like a sponge. It made teaching him easy, especially since he had a virtually photographic memory. In fact Severus quite enjoyed the debates he had with the nine year old (which seemed rather awkward to say, but it was the truth). Too bad his parents hadn't seen his brilliance... Still, that meant Severus just had more time with the child.

Amazingly the child had mastered most first and second year spells, and even a few third year spells (granted they weren't particularly difficult, and Harry had read many a book in magical affairs, but still). His potions (the ones the boy made side by side with Severus) were that of almost a fifth year student. The boy was amazing in Severus' art! It had both dazzled and excited the older man, and they tended to have routine brewing sessions every other day or so. They never brewed anything to hard or dangerous (Harry was still a child), but whatever they did brew (mostly small healing potions for ailments of all kinds) turned out almost perfectly.

It was almost laughable, considering how inadequate the young one's father was in the subject, but Snape supposed James couldn't really given credit for any part of Harry's development.

At the thought he smirked and glanced down to his right. At his side was the small boy, perched on a high stool so as to reach the top of the table where the cauldron sat. Harry still had the occasional problems with his breathing, but for the most part he had it under control (it had gotten slightly better with age). What hadn't changed much, however, was the fact that he was utterly puny (about the height and size of a six year old, even though he was nearly nine). His hair now hung down to the small of his back, and almost always remained in a loose braid. His eye sight was perfect and he (unlike his brother) had no need for glasses. His nose was small and pert and his lips were thick and pink. His cheeks were rosy and his eyes remained incredibly wide and utterly encased by their coal black lashes. The boy, simply put, was adorable (though he still looked more feminine than he ought to).

Severus couldn't have been prouder. He felt his chest puff in pride, remembering all his lessons (teaching the boy to read, to write, table manners, and even how to cook simply recipes and brew simple potions). He felt more like the boy's father than his second godfather (yes,he'd been appointed the position a few years back, though James had thrown a hissy fit). So much of Harry's childhood could be accredited to him, and he knew Harry would go on, one day, to do many great things.

Note: I will most likely update again either within this week or in the next, expending on whether or not the story gets any views. Thanks for reading!

~Darkweasel01


	2. Chapter 2

Author Note: Thank you all so much for leaving those wonderful comments! I really appreciate it, but I also got some questions that I'll clear up before we move along.

the first question I got a lot was about Remus and whether or not he will be involved in the future. The answer is a resounding YES. As of the moment he really doesn't know about Harry being lonely, but that's why the next chapter will be so important and interesting. Remus will indeed become a large source of comfort for Harry, and later on in the story Sirius will as well.

i was also asked if Severus will still become the potions master at Hogwarts, which is also a yes. There was also a comment on how Harry's parents aren't really abussive, just more forgetful than not. This will likely be true for at least few more chapter. After all, I don't believe that people like them would beat or fully neglect their children, however there will be a few issues with it in the story coming up... But that's for later chapters, so keep it on the down low...

i was also asked if there was a particular reason that Harry was so sensitive to magic as a child. The answer to that is that he will always be rather sensitive to it, the reason being simply because he is the Light Lord. The Lords are the closest figures in their world to death, but at the same time are the most alive. It'll be explained more in the story, as Jarry grows and begins to learn more, but for now I'll put it like is; magic isn't just a force wizards can use in this story. It's like chakra in Naruto; it resides in all living and no living beings, but only a select few can manipulate it, which is a large part of the reason Voldemort will be so callous against them.

thanks for reading! Before I go I wanted t apologize for the lack of page breaks last chapter; they were in there when I uploaded it, so I don't know why they disappeared. I apologize for that. Like I said in the last chapter, please no flames. I would, however, like to hear all,abort what you think should happen, or what you'd like to see happen, in the future of this story. I have a bit of the plot planned out, but it isn't set in stone, so I'd love it if you guys have any cool ideas of what you'd like to see.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter the books, the movies, the storyline, or the characters. Anything that isn't canon belongs to me, but other than that it all belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Ch. 2

Growing up, for Harry, was lonely. He had no friends aside from Godfather (which was a how he had begun addressing Severus since he was seven, when his parents made the older man his secondary godfather). Padfoot (since he was no longer Uncle) could not be given the title in Harry's opinion as he very rarely even talked to the young Prongslet. Harry had even stopped calling Prongs his father, since he also saw little of the man. Uncle Moony remained an uncle, since whenever he did find the time to visit he always gave him as much attention as possible, and his mother became 'ma'am', since he was almost invisible to her. The elderly man that sometimes came to see his brother addressed him only to say a polite greeting and a pleasant farewell, and even though he had asked Harry to address him as 'Grandfather' Harry still called him 'Sir', since Grandfather was much to personal a term.

Godfather had all but raised him as his own, and was perhaps the only person aside from Uncle Moony who he actually loved with all his heart. It was a relief when he got to go to Godfather's house, since that meant he got to spend his time learning, and drawing, and making potions. He wanted to be a Healer when he grew up... Either that or a potions master... Or perhaps he should do both? He couldn't quite decide, he just knew he wanted to help people.

That was all he'd ever sought to do; to help others. He tried to spare pocket change (though he had little since he'd never gotten an allowance like his brother) for the beggars that lined the street. He tried to talk to them, or bring them food when he could. It was in doing that he came to know a few of the men and women, and even a few children, that had been turned out of housing; shunned and forgotten by the Ministry.

These people had taken a liking to Harry. A few of them knew him by name, and one in particular, an elderly man named Marv who had owned a book store which had been shut down by the ministry on the accusations of seeking books containing dangerous and dark magics, was enthrall ex with the bright boy. Marv had lost his marbles a few years back, and had grown old in the time since. He was a heavy drinker, but in his youth had been a rather bright man... It was sad, really. The man was plagued by bouts of dementia, but still tried very hard to hold a decent conversation with Harry when he could. He seemed so lonely...

So yes, Harry had a few acquaintances, but it didn't seem like enough. None of them were really his friends, per say... They were simply people he knew. He only ever felt really happy when he was making his Godfather proud. He supposed that meant that Godfather was his friend, but Godfather was also his caretaker, so friend didn't really seem like the correct term. In fact if anything, since Harry had been practically raised by Severus, he thought it more practical to inwardly refer to him as father, or dad as opposed to Godfather. But Prongs and Lilly would be angry about it, and might not let him stay with Severus, so he kept his trap shut.

He hadn't even told them about the scar; the one that apparently only he could see. He'd had it for as long as he remembered, and there were times it would become tender, or swell. This caused Harry great discomfort, but once again whenever he tried to complain about it he was either ignored or taken far to seriously (his mother had dragged him like a rag doll to the doctor one time in utter panic when he'd told her his head hurt real bad). He hadn't ever done it again, and quite frankly he was fine not talking to his parents about issues he felt he could resolve on his own...

This was another problem; he had gone from indifference for his parents to outright dislike. He even felt a deep seated resentment towards his elder twin... No, towards Charlus, since the older boy wasn't, in any sense of the word, his brother. Charlus never even took the initiative to show him any of the things he'd learned in his 'special classes', and only visited Harry in his little tower when he had 'nothing better to do'. Not that Harry minded, since he'd learned everything from the lessons his brother attended and more (he was a quicker learner than his brother and therefore moved forward in his training much faster) and he loathed his brother's company. Needless to say even in his own home he never felt like he truly belonged; he found this privilege (belonging) in the arms and home of his Godfather, as pathetic as it sounds. Prongs and Lilly cared for him physically, yes, but they seemed to invested in other things to sacrifice their time for his true needs.

And so Harry didn't like Prongs and Lilly. He never hurt them, or troubled them (they we're family, after all), but he didn't like them either and he spent as little time with them as he could (not that it was a hard feat to accomplish). He felt like a burden when he was with them. They often treated him like glass (even Padfoot did that) and it bugged him. His Godfather did the same thing, to some degree, but he was always careful about when he did it, and in what circumstances.

That was yet another reason he loved Godfather; he understood. Godfather had a hard childhood too. Both Severus and his mother feared his father (Harry hadn't been told why, but he knew enough about the world to at least suspect why), and he had apparently found solace only in books. Apparently Lilly had been his only friend when he was a child (Harry felt bad for him) and the two had been inseparable until his Godfather said something nasty to her. Apparently it had been enough to send her crying to Prongs, who had comforted her and eventually they'd gotten married. Godfather said he was over it now, but Harry wasn't entirely sure he believed him. Severus had no trouble being around Lilly anymore (which was in part because he needed to be around the woman to obtain his godson) but Harry had seen the looks his Godfather snuck at Lilly and a Prongs whenever they hugged, or even touched. His Godfather was quite clearly jealous, but Harry had enough sense not to say anything.

Of course Lilly never really noticed the looks. She was too busy doting on her loving husband and her wonderful eldest child to actually see past the sheltered life she'd set up for herself. It honestly irked Harry, especially when she tried to talk to him in such a friendly manner; she always wore simple dresses with the same thick white apron she'd owned since his birth. He supposed it was her way of getting more into her role as a house wife, but in all honesty he found it just shy of revolting. Harry tried to ignore it, which wasn't hard to do when he scarcely saw the woman three times a week...

Needless to say his parents and 'family' weren't really apart the equation. Harry strayed away from the Potter Manor when he could, and he also made short errand runs for both his family and his Godfather to Diagon Alley, since he knew it like the back of his hand (though Prongs and Lilly always made Charlus go with him; they thought he'd get lost or injured on his own). Harry never really talked to anyone on these runs, but that had more to do with his Godfather having told him he was not to talk to strangers than his own fear of them. He did feel a little bad, though. After all, most of the Diagon Alley shop owners knew his face, and some even knew his name, but Harry himself rarely did anything more than give them a kind wave of greeting or a brief smile.

The shop owners always reciprocated, usually with words instead of silence. They would graciously welcome him, some asked about his day, but Harry simply replied in short, one word answers. He really didn't have the necessary social skills to do much more than that... But at least he got outside once in a while. His brother rarely left the house. The only time he did was to visit a family called the Weasleys (he was, apparently, friends with their youngest son Ron and had a crush on their youngest daughter Ginny) or to visit another family known as the Longbottoms. Harry hadn't ever met either family, but he was perfectly fine with that. Besides, even when he asked his parents to go with Charlus they simply replied that he probably wouldn't enjoy it, and 'kindly' suggested he continue to read his books (they didn't even know about his plants or potions or even his snakes).

It was actually a rather sour spot for Harry. Charlus had friends his own age, but Harry did not. Harry felt as though he couldn't really relate to any others his age. It was hard for him, having grown up around Snape who was anything but accommodating to a child he'd always had to keep up, which meant he had to catch on quickly or be promptly left behind. Harry had always wished for friends; even just one who he could call friend, even if it was the only one he ever got as long as he wasn't always alone! He wanted to relate to others, and to be able to talk to children his own age.

It was for this reason Severus had decided he would take the boy with him to Malfoy manner today, the day before his birthday. He hoped his godchildren could get along, and hoped to start Harry out on a path that wouldn't be prejudice against the Slytherin house. In fact he rather fancied having Harry in Slytherin once he started school (Severus had promised Albus he would begin teaching the year before the twins arrived). It would surely make it easier to keep an eye on his godson, as well as a stern hand (the boy tended to find trouble without meaning to, Severus could attest to that).

So now they were standing in front of the massive house. It was an old brick castle-like structure with high black roofs in the shapes of cones. It looked like the very castles from the books he used to read Harry when he was just a little squirt (not that he was all that much bigger now). Malfoy Manor itself had been with the family since the clan's very beginning, something that was quite common amongst old pure blood families (even his own current residence, Prince Castle, was a family heirloom). This in itself meant the castle-like structure was very old, and the wards around it were finely spun and intricate.

The two, Severus and Harry that is, glided along a thick cobblestone path and up to the large metal gate that stood proudly in front of the Malfoy property. Sprawling gardens lines the inside of the high walls. There were large hedges of white roses and thick vines of white morning glories with crawled up the walls alongside even more vines of ivy. Hazards loved the garden, as he loved anything to do with nature, but the careless nature of the plants gave them more appeal than if they were to be trimmed, harry didn't like people who trimmed their plants for style; it hurt the plants and looked to outrageous to him...

The little boy felt his stomach twist with the anticipation of what the visit would bring. He might be able to gain his first friend (and maybe only at this rate). But Harry wasn't so much nervous as he was curios. Severus had promised he'd enjoy the outing and his Godfather had yet to let him down. Even now the prospect of roaming the vast castle in front of him was almost to much to bear. However, he remained still and complacent. His Godfather would be irritated if he wasn't on his best behavior (manners were a standard, and expectation, for little Harry).

Harry held his Godfather's hand gently in his own small one (or rather it was the other way around; Godfather's hand held his). Harry had, once again, done his hair in its customary braid. Now, however, it was styled with bits of golden beads that matched the elegant copper trimming along the flowing emerald garments he wore. These garments had been a gift from his Godfather last year, and since he remained so small they continued to fit him. He'd even been allowed to pierce his ears so that he could wear the matching gold studs with the small emeralds that had also been given to him. Those earrings were from Uncle Moony and Harry treasured them deeply, just as he did the silken garments that swamped him now. His robes moved about him in much the same manor that his Godfather's would swish and gale around the older man as he moved. It was all rather elegant in Harry's mind...

His Godfather had chosen a deep blue outfit, midnight blue, with white trimming. His hair had begun growing out and, since it had been given a proper wash the night before, was actually clean and grease free. Thanks to this he was able to pull his shoulder length hair back and into an elegant ponytail at the base of his skull that was held loosely by a white silk ribbon. A few stray bangs were left to wander across his defined cheekbones and over the bridge of his thick nose, but aside from those his outfit was impeccable (then again, this was Severus, and over the years Harry had discovered the man had a slight case of OCD when it came precision and perfection).

The two had been anticipating this day for a while now (Harry was excited at the idea of meeting new friends and Severus merely wanted to show the boy off, as he was quite aware he'd raised a very fine, strapping young lad). Harry glided along slowly next to his elder, his face portraying a serene smile but his eyes sharp as ever. The boy was highly intelligent, and Severus worried that this might distance the child from others. Harry certainly didn't care, but Severus knew the value of having friends, since he himself had so very little of them.

Harry was unbothered by the glances his Godfather sent him. He knew the man was, in all likelihood, watching him inadvertently, and therefore didn't even realize he was doing it. Not that that really made anything better, but Harry let it be since it wasn't really hurting anyone. Still though, it bothered him. He'd never really liked attention; he'd grown up so long without it that he felt uncomfortable when he was actually given it. He was almost the exact opposite of his brother, who had a tall, thick build even at the young age of nine with fiery red hair and annoyingly hazel eyes.

Thinking back on the past years of his life Charlus had indeed grown to be quite the bully. He was spoiled and arrogant, but the strangest thing about it was that he didn't seem to do it on purpose. It was the only thing he'd ever known, and was therefore the only way he knew how to act. Harry had grown up learning to pick up things quickly, or to be left behind. It was a simply fact in his life, one he thought was cruel but all the same important.

Charlus, at the age of nine, stood at five feet tall, which was above extremely average, and had a rather muscled build. Prongs had, since he was old enough to ride a broom, been training him to become the best Chaser Hogwarts had ever seen. Sadly for him, Charlus was only average and preferred playing indoors to the 'disgusting outside world', which was his way of saying he wanted nothing to do with ruining his new trousers (though he seemed to love Quidditch itself something fierce).

Harry, on the other hand, avoided his parents at all costs. He loved flying, but had never really told them that, since they didn't really have time to spare with him anyway. He also loved plants. Nature always seemed to blossom around him, as though he was some beacon of light. All it took was a few coaxing words and some nudging with his magic before small dying plants would blossom.

Along with nature Harry had always had a profound love of animals. The way every single one, plant or animal, held a sentient soul, one that, no matter how primitive, was still there... Well, Harry thought it was positively beautiful. He spent most of the day in the west wing of Potter Manor, staring out the window of the tower that held his bedroom.

The bedroom itself was painted a calming sea green, and was outlined in a shimmering golden color. He had no posters on the walls, and the only furnishings were the four poster bed (once again a sea green, deep blue, and golden mix of colors and heaped in a sea of adorable stuffed animals that his parents insisted on buying for him whenever they took Charlus on vacation), the dresser, nightstand, and wardrobe, all of which had been painted a deep golden. He had only one mirror, and very rarely looked into it.

His tower also had a bathroom. It wasn't an overly large bathroom, per say, but it was functional, and that was all Harry could ask. It was also there, in his tower, that he had his own small potions lab, which also functioned as his study. It was more like a small barren room with black walls and a few sturdy tables, but once again he couldn't really complain. This room functioned as a homemade green house as well, and whenever his parents took Charlus on vacation (they decided not to bring Harry because of his 'weak constitution' and would not be swayed in the matter) they gathered many gifts for him, in hopes it would reconcile them.

It never really worked, but Harry still appreciated the vast amount of books, potions ingredients, seeds, and (for some reason) stuffed animals he was always given. They also made sure to always get him something sweet in each place they stopped, since Harry had some of the biggest sweet teeth known to wizard kind.

Each time Harry was interested in what they collected, and each time he disregarded the fact that they were essentially bribing him to forgive them. He didn't care. He understood their reasons for leaving him behind, and while they weren't sound he understood why they'd believe them. They were like planters growing their seeds all the same way; they watered them all and made sure they had sunlight, but they didn't really have that certain touch that was needed. Without that touch the plants didn't thrive, even though they still grew. Harry thought the process much resembled his relationship with Prongs and Lily. They have him the bare essentials, and maybe tried once in a while to appease him, but for the most part they let him be.

And so Harry had to find his own way to thrive. He tended to his plants day in and day out, and he read his books, and he practiced his drawing, and he made his simple potions, but it never seemed like enough. Only when he was with his Uncle or his Godfather did he feel complete, so it was the days with these two that he tended to treasure the most.

It was also for this reason that he and Godfather now stood in front of the large and richly decorated Malfoy Manor dressed in the finest clothes money could buy. Harry had promised to be on his best behavior that evening, and had sworn to his Godfather to at least try to make friends with his other Godson, Draco (though Harry loathed the idea of sharing Severus with anyone). Harry didn't mind his Godfather's meddling. In fact he thought it touching that the man cared... But he really didn't like talking to others. He found most people rather ignorant, or arrogant, both traits he'd despised, and for very good reason.

But, Harry digressed, he was still here. And now Godfather was knocking confidently at the door. Harry found his own eyes locking to the large ebony door, which in itself was richly polish and gleamed black with silver bordering. The door knocker was a silver in color (probably in metal, too, if anything he'd heard about the Malfoys' fortune was correct). It depicted a snake hissing in mock anger with the knocker part was wrapped safely in the folds of its serpentine tongue.

Harry was honestly mesmerized by the small thing. Of all the animals one of his most favorites had to the snakes. He knew many of them personally, in fact, and since they were some of the only animals he could relate to he found them rather interesting. The predictor kale birds that claimed the skies often dropped in for a short conversation as well... Which was yet another astounding trait of Harry's; his ability to speak to animals. It had begun developing since the age of about four, when he'd first talked to the family owl, whom was a kind snowy owl named Hedwig (who they'd gotten just the day before their first conversation) and who had been hungry at the time. Lily had forgotten to feed her, and since there weren't any house elves to help around the house Hedwig was hard pressed to find a meal, since the castle had no rodents (curtesy of his snake friends). Harry had given her some bacon (which he was proud to say he'd cooked himself) and had left out a large bowl of water for her. She was very thankful, and spent the rest of the week stuck to his side, preening his hair and cooing softly in his ear. His parents had been astounded and his brother had been bitterly jealous, but his snakes merely laughed when Harry told them of the day's happenings. Did he forget to mention that they also tended to have a rather dry sense of humor? Well they did, and it was rather annoying...

In fact if one dug through Harry's room they'd find more than just a few snakes. He often out injured ones in the gardens, since they were so small that they often got trampled by his mother and brother when they spent 'bonding' time there (which was at least three times a week). Occasionally he took in an injured bird or two, and once even a fawn who had broken it's leg. He rarely had rodents in to stay permanently though, as rodents were easily spooked and some of the more... Well, some of the more simple minded of the animals. It also didn't help that he slept with at least ten three foot snakes in his bed each night and about another five in his closet (which was enough to scare away any of the small creatures within the entire West Wing).

The Potters had always wondered why the wild life seemed so abundant near the woods of the house. Charlus had, on many an occasions, tried to chase after the animals. Charlus desperately wanted a familiar, but animals just didn't like him (which meant it was another sore point between the brothers since animals tended to flock to Harry). Yet despite being a great brute Charlus still had plenty of compassion, and longed for the company of another living being. Harry thought that Charlus was an idiot, though. If you ran at the animals, of course they'd run away! Especially if you ran at them screaming for them to come back! Once again Harry found himself contemplating his brother's idiocy.

He was quickly drawn from his thoughts by the loud creaking of the door in front of them (which was really a set of two doors - a double door - now that he was paying attention). The creature that greeted them was peculiar. He'd only seen a picture or two of house elves, but he'd heard enough about them to be able to recognize the small, funny looking beings. This one was male, he believed (he couldn't really tell so he kept quiet on the subject) and wore a simple pillow case. The pillow case itself was in absolute tatters, and looked as though it hadn't been cleaned in years. He was thin, so very thin it looked painful, and had wide green eyes (like the Muggle balls; tennis balls!).

The small elf flinched back from Godfather's gaze, as though he expected the elder of the two to strike him or something of the nature. Harry felt compassion well within him, and his eyes softened marginally when the creature glanced back up from the ground and right at him. Harry smiled, watching as the creature bowed low to the ground. "Dobby welcomes Misters Snape and Potter to his Master's home. Dobby will take you to meet the Master!" Piped the small creature. Dobby's eyes flitted to meet Harry's once again.

"Thank you, Dobby." Godfather seemed to huff. Harry's guardian stepped easily into the house. Harry followed behind him piping up for the first time with a mimicked, "Thank you Dobby," in his musical lilt, which was accompanied by a wide grin. The house elf looked startled for a moment before he nodded happily, a grin appearing on his wrinkled face. Harry gave the creature a reassuring grin before his eyes flitted back up to Severus, who watched the exchange with mild interest.

"Right this way, Misters." Tittered the elf as he seemed to skip along ahead of the graceful duo.

(Scene Break)-

Harry was hard pressed to take in the surrounding sights. Everything was so large, and so lavish! How anyone could afford this was beyond him... But then again he supposed the Malfoys weren't one of the richest wizarding families out there for nothing. They had everything that others sought to gain; power, money, status, respect (though that had surely declined when they'd sided with Voldemort in the last war), and above all; looks.

Funnily enough Harry had been told by his Godfather that the current Malfoy Lord, Lucius, seemed to care more for his hair than any money he'd inherited (something that had drawn a slew of giggles from the boy at the time). However, Godfather had also told him that Lord Malfoy was an important figurehead, and beyond that was also a very powerful foe. Severus had told Harry to treat this all like one big game; the goal was to make even odds with everyone, and please as many as possible (thereby gaining essential alliances that could be used at a later date).

Harry loved games, and this was no different he thought idly as he examined the long hallway. They'd been walking down it for a while now, about a minute or two (Harry was impatient; an hour to him was a small eternity) and it seemed the same lush visage from top to bottom all the way down. Portraits (old heads of the families, he noted) were lined along each side of him, but towered above him. Each seemed as though it was staring down at him disapprovingly, but he merely continued to smile. Stupid paintings...

Harry let his feet lead him along after all together too cheery house elf. It only took another moment or two or trekking through the dreary hallways before they came to a large opening that led into yet another beautiful room.

Said room was done in greens, silvers, and blacks, and was (he supposed) what one could consider to be a sitting room, or a tea room. The Potters had a similar room in the main belly of their Manor, though their's was done up in maroons and golds (Gryffindor and Slytherin he thought). There were four large sofas, all angled to create the shape of a square surrounding a large coffee table that would have come up to Harry's chest (since he was so damn small). Other than that the walls themselves seemed to be bear of anything, including portraits and decor. There was a large fireplace at the opposite end of the room from where they stood now which roared brightly in the dimly lit room. Aside from that there didn't seem to be anything of interest. No even so much as a flu buzzed in the room. One lone window stood on the right side of the room and opened to a view of the castle's very own Quidditch Pitch (the Potter's had one too). The pitch had silver hoops instead of the customary golden color, and on the ground was the Malfoy crest, bare for all to see in its silver-green glory. He was so focused on trying to make out the crest (which just looked squashed from his angle) that Harry only noticed the door on the left wall when it opened to reveal the Malfoys in all their glory.

Lucius (Lord) Malfoy stood in with his wife Narcissa at his arm, per custom. The man was dressed in silver and green, Slytherin colors. He had a single inner robe that was solidly silver with a brilliant emerald robe surrounding that one. He wore only the family rings and held a walking cane smartly in his left hand, which was unoccupied by his wife. Said wife had her own blond hair done up in an elegant bun and wore a flowing pair of fitted green robes. They made quite the handsome couple, if he said so himself.

Lord Malfoy held himself with dignity, but Harry detected a vast amount of arrogance as well (brought on by the wealth and power no doubt). He had a thick square jaw and, true to tale, his hair draped elegantly along his back. It framed the high cheekbones and thick nose (a lot like Severus in the face, actually) and thin lips. He was rather tall, standing at six foot two (just an inch below Harry's Godfather) and radiated power. He wore his magical aura like some prized necklace, something Harry himself had never thought to do (Harry's aura was too large and uncontrollable for such a thing at the moment).

Lady Malfoy was, like her husband, aristocratic in appearance. However she, unlike her husband, did not outwardly exude her magical aura. She kept her face done in a polite smile so that the edges of her ruby colored lips turned up just barely. She wore just a hint of mascara (no doubt to darken her fine, golden eyelashes) and had just a hint of eyeliner to define each almond shaped grey eye. Harry noticed that seemed to be yet another thing the two shared; those gleaming silver eyes.

Harry let his eyes trail down the two and felt them land on the smallest form, which entered just after them. His own emerald eyes locked with yet another pair of steely silver as he took in the sight of the youngest Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy, Heir to the Malfoy fortune and title Lord Malfoy, was a rather average child. He had his mother features (extremely high cheekbones) and in his own right was a very handsome young boy. He exuded confidence and, with that, arrogance. His chest seemed to puff as he swaggered into the room. The boy was dressed in an almost identical version of his father's own robes, only much smaller. He had elven features and the same fine white hair that was characteristic to most Malfoys by blood.

Harry was brought from his musings when Lord Malfoy addressed his Godfather. The elder man sneered as he looked down his thick nose and right into Harry's emerald eyes. The Malfoy Patriarch almost seemed to pause as he stared down at him, stunned maybe? But it didn't really matter, since he recovered a split second later.

"This," the pale haired man paused, eyes disdainful as the evaluated Harry's form, "is a boy?" He asked almost incredulously. The man showed no outward emotion, but the statement was clearly meant to get a rise out of Harry himself. Harry, however, merely stayed silent, meek as ever. He didn't even shift under the steely grey eyes; he wouldn't give the insolent man the pleasure of acknowledging his discomfort.

Severus, however, was all to aware of the lack of comfort the child was feeling, and he, in turn, was getting rather angry because of it. What did Lucius have to gain from rising the ire of a nine year old (soon to be)? It didn't make any sense to the dark haired professor, none at all. However to save his favorite Godson the discomfort he stalked forward a few feet and eyed Lucius with the same amount of distaste with which the elder watched Harry.

"He is rather pretty, isn't he?" He drawled in an almost bored way, eyes blinking lazily as they smoldered into Lucius'. "But don't be fooled; the boy has three times the mental capacity most of the bumbling idiots I call pupils..." He trailed off, eying his other, pale headed Godson. Draco seemed to have taken a heavy interest in Harry, and was now watching the boy intently as the younger of the two watched the eldest Malfoy.

At least he was assured Draco would play nice. After all, Draco had very few friends, if any. He rarely left the mansion, was home schooled, and the only other people he met were his father's associates (aka, his tools). In other words; Draco was lonely, and Severus was considered by Lucius to be a friend rather than a tool, which meant Harry was up for grabs as the same thing, or at least something similar. After all, Lucius believed Severus to be, essentially, his right hand man, and a very important man to their Lord (which he was). It was no wonder he would jump at the chance to have Draco introduced to a child even Severus (who honestly hated children, despite being a teacher) deemed worthy.

Which meant he wasn't actually spiting Harry. Lucius was merely seeing if the boy could be trusted to help guide his son (or vice versa). Severus would have done the same thing had the roles been reversed... In fact he probably would do the very same thing in the future (if Draco let Harry have other friends that is; Malfoys were true friends under their hard exteriors, and once you gained their trust, which in itself was extremely hard, you had it for life. However they were also very possessive bastards...).

Severus was lost so deeply in his own mind that he was only startled from these thoughts by Harry's musical voice. He inwardly cursed the distraction and his mind's new found ability to wander (it had begun happening more and more often the longer Harry remained in his care).

"A pleasure to meet you, Lord and Lady Malfoy. I am honored to have been invited into your lovely abode." The small boy greeted with a deep bow, as was customary. He added a charming smile (that damnable smile, the one no one could resist) and simply stared back at Lucius, whose own eyes twinkled with something like approval at the boy's acknowledgement of the old pure blood customs.

Narcissa seemed to smile just a small bit at the picture (Severus knew his boy was adorable and it seemed that it wasn't just him acknowledging the fact (because it was totally factual)). Lucius seemed unperturbed, and continued to stare down the small boy. The platinum blind took a moment before speaking once more. "Severus seems to think you have plenty of potential..." Licius paused momentarily, looking like he'd swallowed something distasteful before he suddenly asked, "Do you enjoy Quidditch?" In a rather impassive tone. Clearly the question was not his own, but that of his son. Nonetheless Harry indulged him anyway, as was expected of him.

"I enjoy flying, yes. However, I've never really had the chance to play the actual game, or any version thereof. I prefer wizard chess, but I suppose that might be due to the fact that I lack knowledge of the rules of Quidditch, Sir." He stated, still smiling pleasantly at the couple. Draco looked a bit flabbergasted at his lack of knowledge when it came to the game, but if anything it seemed to make him a tad more interested (if only a little disappointed).

"Which House do you wish to be in when you go to Hogwarts, ?" Lucius questioned gruffly. He hadn't really expected the previous answer. He had assumed that, Harry being Potter spawn, he'd have been obsessed with the game, or maybe he would have sneered at him... He had expected the little boy to have snapped at him, considering he was, after all, Lucius Malfoy. Not to mention this was essentially an interview for him to find someone competent enough for his son to claim as a friend.

Harry blinked at him, smile falling a bit as he seemed to consider it. "I wouldn't mind being in any of the houses. Hufflepuff has never been my favorite, but I hear their loyalty surpasses all, and it would be very nice to be surrounded by such kindred spirits," Lucius sniffed a bit, "However it would not be my first choice (most likely my last, actually). Gryffindor is where, I assume, my dear brother will come to rest," Lucius pondered why the boy seemed to add just the slightest bit of spite to the word 'brother', "and knowing him he will want to keep me close at hand. However I don't believe I would be as well suited to their loud and boisterous ways as he would. He would thrive there, and I would not. I would most assuredly enjoy it, but it would do nothing to nurture my academic skills, which I think very highly of." The boy sighed heavily wondering why it had to be him of all people that had to deal with the elder Malfoy (the man was just a bit of a prat) before continuing onwards, "Which brings me to the next choice; Ravenclaw... I'm not going to lie, I would most likely fit in very well in Ravenclaw. I very much enjoy reading (it takes up almost all if my time, in fact) and I simply crave knowledge. However, I have a very strong ambition to use said knowledge to make something of myself one day, not just to attain it. This, as you all know, is an attribute of a Slytherin. I feel as though I would do well in Slytherin... Though it would be nice (if I followed that path) to know someone there," he gestured to Draco, who puffed up in pride, "before I pursue that option, since my parents would no doubt be devastated..." The unspoken idea of having beneficial alliances made Lucius smirk a bit, though it remained there only a minute before vanishing and smoothing back into the emotionless mask that was Lucius Malfoy's pristine face.

The small boy huffed a bit. "But as for which House I wish to be in? I don't really know, nor do I truly care. I can be ambitious, and knowledgeable, and loyal, and brave respectively, so I have not dwelt on the fact beforehand." Harry stopped, wondering if, perhaps, he was giving himself too much credit. He was certainly smart, and plenty brave and loyal, but was he ambitious enough for the snake house? He wasn't entirely sure... "I do, however, wish to belong, to be able to thrive, in whichever House is chosen for me." He finished, eying the elder Malfoy, whose gaze seemed a bit less calculating and a bit more inviting after the (rather intelligent) answer.

Harry thought the questioning might have ended, but found his fragile hopes crushed when Lady Malfoy decided to speak while her husband remained silent. "And, Harry, dear, what are some of your hobbies?" Was her question, though instead of the dull tone in which her husband had asked his questions her own voice seemed slightly curios (the questions were probably well rehearsed, so it may have been finely tuned acting on her part...).

Harry glanced briefly at her, continuing to smile. His cheeks had begun to hurt and his back was sore from standing so straight for such a long (not) time. He answered the question only to end the torture in hopes he'd find a futon of sorts to claim later. "I have an affinity for drawing, I've recently adopted playing the piano and the violin, and I enjoy reading." Harry spoke clearly, as though he, himself, had rehearsed for the day. Narcissa clearly approved, shown in the form of an almost imperceptible smirk that lifted just the corners of her dainty mouth. Lucius himself had given a slight nod, and (finally) decided to return the earlier pleasantries.

"A pleasure to have you here, ." Lucius returned Harry's earlier bow with a slight incline of his head which his wife mimicked just a second later. With the whole petty test done Malfoy signaled to Draco, who seemed all to eager to step forward and meet the boy who would, likely, be one of his friends (perhaps even his only).

(Draco POV)

Draco had been told before hand that should his father dismiss him with the boy it was a clear sign of approval, and therefore he was free to pursue a friendship with him. Of course Draco hadn't ever really had friendships before. He'd only ever had alliances, which his father assured him were very different. He supposed that was why he was so excited to meet the boy, but found himself a little stunned when he'd entered the sitting room.

Harry Potter certainly didn't look like a boy... In fact he looked a lot like a very pretty girl, which was a little off setting, but Draco certainly wouldn't complain when he finally had the chance to make a friend. So Draco disregarded the long, braided black hair and the thick eyelashes and the high cheekbones and the small nose and the soulful eyes, but turned instead to the size of the dainty boy.

The boy was short. Very short. Which was actually rather funny in Draco's opinion. Draco himself was just a small bit over average height, which meant he positively towered over the youngest Potter. Potter didn't seem to mind it either... But Harry had taken to sizing him up, and Draco had to admit that it did, indeed, feel just the slightest bit uncomfortable. Draco usually liked the attention, but something about the heavy scrutiny in those liquid emeralds almost hurt him. He still kept smiling, though. That was what his father had told him; smiling was appealing. It made him look more friendly. And since Draco was dead set on making friends he figured he should (probably) smile as much as he could, even if it made his cheeks ache in protest (ah, the logic of a needy nine year old).

Only after father dismissed him did he finally step forward towards the boy. Draco latched quickly onto Harry's smaller hand, pausing a moment to notice just how much smaller it was than his own, before tugging the amused boy along behind him.

"Come on, Harry! I'll show you my room! And then we can go to the Quidditch Pitch! But don't worry; since you don't know how to play I'll teach you!" Promised the excited blond. Harry felt his smile grow. He, too, hadn't ever really had a friend. Charlus had lots of friends, but Harry's parents always worried about his constitution, and as a result kept him in doors as often as possible. Harry suffered for it, and became somewhat of a recluse (he didn't really mind, since he had all his books to read, and Moony the wolf, and his potions, and his plants).

But now he had a friend! Or, at least he would, if Draco decided to reciprocate his friendship. Not that he really needed to worry, since Draco had already made up his mind; after all, how often was it that his father approved of someone his own age? Almost never... Except when the elder Malfoy wanted him to make an alliance of some wort, but that wasn't really approval, it was more of a cooperation than anything.

(Scene Break)

Draco scarcely thought of anything aside from the small boy at his back while he dragged him down the long corridor which lead to his room. At the end of the hallway there was a large door which lead to an even larger room. The room was, of course, Draco's.

The furniture of the room matched the rest of the house: lavish and comprised of deep greens, silvers, and blacks. There were two large love seats near the fire place that each had a silken green blanket draped over the silver leather that covered them. They faced the fire and in the middle of the two was a small ebony coffee table with a detailed wizard chess board (one side was crystal and the other was an obsidian colored rock). The fireplace was brick, and lit the room alongside a large lamp that stood on the small black table beside the bed.

The bed itself was large with four posts, and was currently open for view. A large dragon stuffy lay amidst a sea of green and silver pillows, and the top of the posters created a rectangular fame that allowed the curtains of fabric at its peak to flow down to conceal the occupant at night. To the right of the queen sized bed (which was about as large as his own, only much more luxurious) was the small table that held the lamp, as well as a book called The Beetle and the Bard (it was a story book Harry himself had often read when he was younger). To the bed's left was a large rocking chair, upon which was a neatly folded black blanket embroidered in silver.

The rocking chair itself looked pristine, and under foot was a large black carpet with the Malfoy crest embroidered in a fine mixture of silver and green. There was a wardrobe next to a dresser on the other wall, and a window to the right of those which had a couch built into it so one could sit, or even nap there. There were a few more stuffed dragons on the bench, and to the right of the window was a set of shelves, all of which held various toys and games.

The entire bedroom felt cozy, and Draco paused a moment to gauge his new friend's reaction. He was pleased by the smile he found himself facing. "I have a set of toy dragons, too." He said when he found the smaller boy staring at his own plushies. Admittedly he may have had a slight infatuation with the creatures (he was named for them) and there were a great deal of them all around the room.

Harry flicked his eyes back to Draco, drawing his attention away from the stuffed animals. He tilted his head to the right slightly. He'd never had any real toys, only stuffed animals, since his parents were always worried he would somehow injure himself with anything else. they'd even wanted to keep him bunking with Charlus so they could keep a closer eye on him! Clearly Harry had own that battle, and in the end had chosen the win directly opposite where his family stayed. At first his parents had protested, and Harry had almost enjoyed having their attention... Until Charlus had come into the room whining about his he just positively needed the newest broom on the market...

Harry hadn't really asked for anything after that, and he'd only gotten a few glimpses of Charlus' toys, as he had forbidden himself to touch anything that belonged to his arse hole brother. In all honesty, he was rather excited at the prospect of this budding relationship with the Malfoy heir. He wanted friends like Charlus! Friends who would appreciate him instead of tossing him aside... And Severus had chosen this boy as a prime candidate, meaning there had to be at least some potential.

This reasoning lead him to the conclusion that he could probably join the boy in conversation. After all wasn't that the best way to start a friendship? Harry reasoned it was and stared up at the boy through his bangs, which had been cut at a diagonal angle in an effort to hide the scar that no one seemed to notice.

"May I see them?" He asked, "I've never really had a deep interest in dragons, but their pretty cool, and they breath fire..." He stated, feeling a bit dumb about that being the only fact he could supply on the beasts. Harry rally wanted to make friend and was doing so in the only way he knew how; knowledge (which was, admittedly, his answer to everything). For someone his age he was incredibly smart, a genius in fact. But with this status came consequences; most considered him abnormal (Charlus), too smart for his own good (Padfoot and his parents), or a miracle (Uncle Remus and his Godfather).

Draco didn't share any of their opinions. He thought Harry to be the best thing since sliced bread, and his apparent interest of dragons only contributed to that fact. Draco swelled happily as he began a long winded explanation on dragons and why they were so brilliant. Harry listened with rapt attention. It was the beginning of a long lasting friendship that would survive wars, tragedies, and even betrayals. In the following years Harry would reflect back and find that he really couldn't have found a better friend than Draco. Draco was of the same opinion. They were invaluable to one another; truly the best of friends.

Author Note: I apologize if this isn't the most interesting chapter ever, but it is rather necessary to the story itself. I hope you all like it regardless! As I said before hand the next chapter will be much more interesting... That being said I'd also love to hear your opinions on where you think the story should go! I have a general idea, but I don't have every single detail planned out. I also apologize if my grammar or something is incorrect. I don't have anyone to correct me and I'm only fifteen... Plus I also get about two hours of homework each night, so I rarely have time to write. I apologize once again... Anyway, thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate it!


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Ok, so I posted half of this chapter earlier saying the story would be up for adoption. A few people were disappointed because of it, so I felt really bad about it. I just didn't want to have anybody getting mad at me about not updating as regularly as I perhaps should, so I will inform you all that I will be keeping this story, but updates may be sporadic. Since updates may be sporadic (I'm hoping at least two per month) I wouldn't mind if other people did other variations of the story. That being said if you'd like to do something like that just send me a note so I can fit in a link to your story in the next chapter of this one so everyone knows they're linked. Thanks for the attention and patience. Once again, I sincerely apologize, I was having trouble trying to see where I wanted this story to go, but I'll try my best.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the canon Harry Potter series including characters, settings, etc. I only own the deviations that I have created from the original plotline.

Ch. 3

-(Albus POV)-

Albus Dumbledore felt a bit entitled to the common delicacies of everyday life. This was the reason he loved sweets so much. Many thought him old, and even deranged for it, but behind the pleasantries he was actually a rather keen mind; keen, yes, but also kind. Albus Dumbledore was, in actuality, a very kind person. He forgave those who, perhaps, didn't deserve it, and offered life and redemption to those who'd made mistakes (Severus was a prime example of that).

However, despite how kind he was, Albus was also a leader, and leaders often had to make hard decisions. This was true in any situation; with Grindlewald, and especially now, with Voldemort supposedly still alive. Albus was honestly flustered about the whole situation. The Dark Lord should be dead; Charlus Potter had done the impossible and survived the killing curse, rebounding it onto its caster. Voldemort should be long dead... Which was why the prophecy disturbed him so greatly.

Said prophecy had been given by his very own divination teacher, one , and claimed that the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approached. Albus, while strong, was not in his prime, and was therefore almost on par with the Dark Lord Voldemort, but surely not stronger. This meant that he could not be the one of the prophecy... In fact there were only three options; Neville Longbottom, or Charlus and Harry Potter (two boys he considered family by everything but blood and surely didn't want to loose to the Dark Lord).

This being said he had kept a very strict watch on this families. Then he'd gotten news of an attack on Godrics Hollow (where he'd sent the Potters to hide several months prior) and he'd nearly had a heart attack. Imagine his surprise when he arrived to find the family in almost perfect condition, minus the large and heavily bleeding cut on Charlus' right shoulder... And the fact that the small child practically reeked of dark magic.

He'd known then and there that he'd found the prophecy child. His first instinct was to reevaluate his plans; he needed to have the child trained and ready to fight, to be prepared to live through the endeavor of fighting one of the greatest Dark Lords ever known... And now the time had come.

Today was Charlus Potter's ninth birthday, the day he would receive his wand and begin his extensive training at the hands of Albus Dumbledore, who was widely considered the strongest man of his time. Dumbledore could hardly wait to begin such training; after all, he'd never taken on a pupil, so this would most definitely be a first. The only child he had ever been close enough to to consider a son was Severus, and he was a grown man, and a very strong wizard in his own right. In essence there wasn't really anything Albus could teach the man, especially since the dour Potions Master preferred the Dark Arts to Light Magic anyway...

But Charlus... Charlus would be different. Charlus would be his prodigy, his legacy. The boy would be a savior, a leader, and a protector. He had to be... Which lead Albus to the reason for his worry. Charlus himself hadn't shown accidental magic until the age of eight, at which point his mother and father had taken him to have his magical core evaluated. While the results of the test were positive they certainly weren't anything special, which was why Albus had tried to up the amount of time his parents worked with him each day.

Unfortunately this didn't really do anything. Charlus had proven to be a very stubborn child, nothing like his pliant younger brother, and misbehaved often. He read, wrote, and understood only what normal children his age normally did... Which once again was a cause of worry for Dumbledore. The old man hadn't seen anything to indicate the elder twin's special status. Sure, he learned things at a quick rate, but he had been his whole life, and young children were very impressionable. Albus worried that perhaps the boy wasn't the child he'd been looking for. This thought brought him to the topic of Harry... Harry who he hadn't seen in over a year, though he'd seen young Charlus just last month.

Albus was very fond of the smaller child. Harry hadn't ever taken an intense interest in him per say, but Albus at least tried to say a word or two to the child whenever he saw him. The little boy reminded him a lot of Ariana at that age. He was such a sweet child, always greeting him, even before his brother and parents. However the boy seemed a bit apathetic as well. Albus hoped to break him out of the habit and had resolved just a few weeks back to attempt to pay him more attention, since it was painfully obvious his parents were always just a tad to busy to do it themselves.

And, of course, this was his chance! It was their ninth birthday, and while Charlus would be giving a wand he didn't want Harry to feel left out. He vowed to himself that while the family was visiting Diagon Alley to get the elder twin his wand he would take the younger of the two to the pet shop, as having a pet would teach one responsibility.

It had nothing to do with the fact that he almost knew little Harry would be utterly jealous of his brother being able to get his wand first... Nothing at all...

And so, like so many other times, Albus dropped the train of thought. He needed to flew over to Potter Mansion. After all, he didn't want to be late for the big day. And so with that thing in his head he gave Fawkes the Phoenix a small pat as he passed him by and threw a large handful of ash into the fireplace, causing it to erupt in green flames. From there he yelled "Potter Manor!" loudly before stepping into the green inferno and being swept away in a single, dizzying spell of emerald.

-(Scene break - Harry POV)-

Harry wasn't all that excited. He really didn't have a reason to be. On his birthday he shared a large cake with his brother, listened to his parents dote over the elder sibling, and usually joined Remus in a rather intense game of chess (since Prongs had forbid Godfather from making an appearance). He got more stuffed animals from his parents, usually a kids book he'd never read from Sirius (but kept anyway, because it was the thought that counts), and some sort of interesting puzzle from Remus. His Godfather usually got him a new Wizarding chess set each year. Each year they got more grand; Harry had a magnificently carved marble set as of now.

Harry was very proud of his rather extensive set of chess boards; each one was a gift from Godfather, and each and every one of them was treasured just as highly as Moony the Wolf which, speaking of, the small boy hardly went anywhere without the stuffed wolf. Harry had left him at home when visiting other places; going to Godfather's and on the occasional outing, but the boy still had yet to give up the stuffy even though Charlus had long since ripped his apart and had gotten rid of it.

To Harry the stuffed animal was a true gift; it was different than what Charlus got. Harry was always given duplicates of what Charlus got by their parents, and he always opened his presents second. His parents told him this was because he was the youngest, but since they stopped paying attention after Charlus was finished fishing through his pile Harry thought it might have been more of them forgetting he was even there.

Harry didn't think his parents meant anything behind it, at least not intentionally, but it still hurt. He hated being the second focus, the one without a purpose, and it had been that way ever since he could remember. The sad thing was, Harry would have probably been more surprised had his parents suddenly started paying attention to him then if they ignored him completely. It was sad, but true.

And so it was with these thoughts that Harry sat along the lone bench near one of the few windows of his bedroom, starring out into the front courtyard and watching as the old man he knew to be Albus Dumbledore chatted amiably with his father. Harry frowned more deeply when Charlus approached the old man, bouncing excitedly and no doubt yapping nonstop. Harry really didn't like his brother. He didn't hate him, and logically he knew he was family, and therefore held compassion for him, but he did not like him.

Charlus always thought he was right, which really got on Harry's nerves, considering Harry was a prodigy himself. It grated on his nerves whenever his brother answered a question wrong in his daily training sessions and his parents merely let it slide by. They had to know that potions wasn't just like cooking, right? No, it was more like the fine art of muggle chemistry than cooking, but on the multiple occasions during which his brother had described it as such they merely smiles proudly and nodded to him. What idiots.

Harry tried to ignore it, he honestly did. With a heaving sigh he found himself getting steadily to his feet and gliding from his room. Today he wore a simple silver robe over black slacks and a white dress shirt with a deep midnight blue tie. Severus had bought him the robe, and the tie had actually been a gift from Remus. Is was from America, since he'd traveled there on more than one occasion. The dress shirt and slacks were from his parents, and were a normal addition to his daily wardrobe.

Harry had made sure he'd done his hair in its customary braid before trotting down the stairs. Harry decended the double staircase into the foyer of Potter Mansion, giving a soft smile as he did so. It was both customary and polite to put up such a front when welcoming someone else into your abode, not that his family would know of such things. Speaking of, his brother was wearing muggle jeans and a maroon cardigan that matched his father's vest and his mother's dress. His father wore a simple white dress shirt under the vest, and the head of the Potter family bore a wide grin on his face as he led his two best friends and the old man, Dumbledore, through the main doorway and into the sitting room, where the presents and the cake sat in wait.

Harry fisted his hands within his robes when the old man caught his eye. The damn geezer smiled at him! Ha! Like he had a right! He was just standing there smiling happily, pretending for everything that he was worth that this wasn't the little boy he'd ignored since he was one and a half that the two were the best friends! In a childish fit of rage Harry vaguely felt as though he could kick the stupid man's shin.

Of course he berated himself for such childish thoughts only a moment later... after indulging himself in a fantasy of watching the man hop on one leg, clutching his shin in pain. Harry felt the urge to snicker, but withheld it and instead focused on smiling and greeting the others in the room. He walked past them, saying a quick hello, before he reached out to Remus, who allowed the little boy to drag him to the couch where the two began an in depth discussion of the laws of magical theory.

-(scene break - Albus POV)-

For Albus the experience was quite nerve wracking. He'd never really liked being the bearer of bad news, and to Hadrian this would most certainly be bad news. After all, no amount of fluffy kittens or puppies could make up for the fact that his brother would be allowed to take such an important milestone before him, and if the boy's unsettling intelligence was anything to go by he'd be quite angry...

And now that he thought about it wasn't it quite odd that the younger twin talked in the most eloquent of sentences using a knowledge far beyond his years when the elder, the one destined for greatness, was rough housing with a large black dog animagus on the entirely opposite side of the room? How peculiar. And, if the curious glances the other children through Harry every now and then were anything to go by, the black haired lad hadn't met Charlus' friends, which was also quite strange. Hadn't Lilly and James wanted their children to grow up surrounded by Light families? After all, what better way to influence them, especially at such a young age?

However, from what he gathered from the young parents, Harry hadn't ever really had friends his age. He never really seemed to... Click with them. He was wise beyond his years and stuck to Severus' side like glue when he wasn't within the confines of Potter Manor. Albus had heard tell from his favorite potions master, the man he considered his son, that the boy was nothing short of a genius. How many hours had gone by, just he and Severus having tea, where all the two would talk about was the small black haired child?

Honestly, just listening to the fond way Severus spoke of the boy made Albus a bit sad. He'd be letting down one of the few people he respected today with his actions against the boy... but it couldn't be helped! Charlus needed training! He needed to be strong enough to defeat the Dark Lord when the time came about. He needed to pull the wizarding world fro. The darkness that would soon envelope it, but most of all, he needed to grow up.

Training would help the boy do just that. His studies would increase and he'd be forced to keep up. Albus would cram as much knowledge as he could into that little skull of the boy's. Why, by the time he came to Hogwarts Albus vowed to have him at Auror level. After all, if he was the prodigal child it shouldn't be that hard to attain... if only he'd known how wrong he was...

-(time skip - Harry POV)-

Harry was nervous. After the guests had left and Harry had opened his presents his parents had announced a surprised trip to Diagon Alley, which in itself didn't make the boy too worried. No, what worried him was the fact that not only did Sirius tag along, but also Al us Dumbledore. Now, normally Harry wouldn't have really cared, but since he could practically feel the tension oozing from the man, as well as Albus' concealed and worried at him glances every now and then, he couldn't really help it.

He walked with more force than usual, his back straight and his steps forced. Honestly, his stomach turned a little. The sensation only increased when they entered a shop Harry recognized instantly as Olivander's. The old man hadn't ever really talked to Harry (in fact they'd never really met) but for some reason the man was eying him rather intently with those dead vulture blue eyes of his.

... it was unsettling, and Harry didn't like being unsettled.

Harry was supposed to be composed as often as possible. Severus had taught him that. To break form was bad manners, and Harry had all but forced himself to learn manners after a particularly bad experience during which Charlus had thrown an embarrassingly large hissy fit in a store after not getting the toy he wanted; some cheap bobble or other.

Harry also wasn't used to the amount of stares he'd gained from people along the street. Normally when he came he wore a hood of some type, so no one payed much attention to him, but without it it seemed that everyone was watching him... no, not him per say, but them. His family. They were intent on staring at them as though they were some sort of animal locked up for display, and his family members were absolutely preening at the attention.

Harry tried to shrink away from them, hanging towards the back of the crowd, but Dumbledore seemed to be having none of that, and just smiled down at him, placing a firm hand along his shoulder and guiding him along the cobblestone path. This was the moment that Harry decided he might actually truly hate Dumbledore... ok, so that was over reacting, but he certainly didn't like the old man. Not like his brother did, anyway.

Speaking of, Charlus was trotting along beside Harry. He had, at some point, linked their arms so they trotted along elbow in elbow, as uncomfortable as that made poor Harry. With Charlus to his right and Albus to his left he felt about as small as an ant, especially when Charlus finally let it spill on just why they were there in the first place.

Harry hadn't been listening until he'd heard his brother exclaim arrogantly, "... And so I get to get my wand today!" Right into his ear. Harry paused mid stride, practically choking on his words. He heard the under lying message of 'and you won't be!' beneath the happily conveyed message. For a moment Harry thought he'd cry, but he soon sucked in a heavy breath and continued forwards, too lost in his thoughts to notice the utterly guilty glance sent to him by one Albus Dumbledore.

-(scene break - Albus POV)-

Albus had been listening contently to Charlus' steady stream of chatter. It was mostly meaningless tidbits of information, such as "Mum and Da are letting me get a new broom soon, Harry!" and "You should see the Quidditch posters I got from Ron; they move and everything!" However, he drew a blank when the boy suddenly through out the statement of getting his wand. His stomach flipped when Harry, whose shoulder he still gripped gently, stood stock still for a moment, as though having tuned into the conversation for the first time.

By this point they'd made it to the shop. James and Lilly held the door for Charlus, who bounced quickly in (followed by Sirius and Remus). Harry merely stood at the step for a moment, looking very much like he was about to cry, before seemingly composing himself and following his family into the shop.

Albus heaved in a weary sigh; he really hated being the bearer of bad news...

-(scene break - in Olivander's)-

Harry had an inquisitive mind. He was always thinking. About what he wasn't always quite certain, he just knew that his mind constantly flittered to new topics, making connections between things, and filing away information for later use. He almost never lost his train,of thought. However, standing here, just in front of the ditzy wand maker, he thought that this might have been the first time for just such an occurrence.

Olivander's himself wasn't all that intimidating. In fact he was actually rather pathetic looking, with his great poof of feather grey hair and his light blue, almost white, eyes. The man looked half mad and skinny as a twig. He reminded Harry of a willow tree swaying in the wind. He actually mimicked the trees rather skillfully, swaying back and forth as he prattled on about wand types.

The first words out of his moth were the typical, "My word, it's !" And from there he proceeded onwards to, "I hadn't thought I'd be seeing you until a few years from now, but I suppose there is no time like the present!" Before swigging into the piles upon piles of wands that decorated the walls and floors of the quaint little shop.

It only took the elderly man a moment before he stood before Charlus, who watched the man questioning lay, and held out a long, thin box. "Birch wood, Unicorn hair. Good for charms and healing, much like your mother." He declared with a small flick of his right pointer finger at Lilly, who smiled broadly. She'd secretly always wished Charlus was more like her. Harry wasn't, per say, like either of his parents. In fa he more resembled his Godfather than anyone, but he was smart, and Lilly liked smart. Too bad Charlus didn't share her youngest son's enthusiasm for learning...

Charlus took the stick easily from the box, waving it quickly around. There was a moment of pause as everyone waited for something to happen, but after a moment it became clear that nothing had, and so Olivander quickly snatched the wand back from Charlus' hand. The brown haired boy looked about ready to protest before James placed a hand on his shoulder and shot him a quick smile, causing the boy to merely pout in return.

Harry watched the exchange impassively, but inwardly he was in turmoil. Why did his brother always get everything he wanted? It wasn't fair! This... this was a whole new level of atrocity! His parents were getting his brother a wand, standing there laughing happily as the boy tried out stick after damn stick, while Harry merely stood in the shadows, forgotten. He frowned deeply, willing his stinging eyes to hold back the tears that he desperately wanted to let forth. He wasn't some crybaby! He wasn't weak! ... But he was really sad... No, maybe not sad. Somewhere in the depths of his conscious he'd always known his parents like his brother better, so it wasn't really sadness per say. No, it was more like a deep seated jealousy of his brother, who took up all their parents attention, all their love, and who was given everything he'd ever wanted.

Albus watched the small family, a soft smile coming to his lips, until he noticed the absence of young Harry. His eyes darted around the small wand shop until they landed on the small boy's frame, which stood off to the side in a patch of shadows in the corner. Albus frowned as he examined the boy's rigid posture and glassy eyes. The boy was trying hard not to cry, and watching the small shoulders bounce with erratic hiccuping breaths wasn't making the elder man feel any better.

Dumbledore placed yet another smile on his face before trotting over to the boy. Harry's small body stiffened, his face becoming smooth and blank once more, as though he'd practiced the action hundreds of times before hand. The thought made Albus himself stiffen. The boy almost reminded him of his dear sister, Adriana. He hadn't ever really shown bouts of accidental magic, and by that point his parents were worried he'd be a squib. The only reassurance they had was his genius intellect and the fact that the Hogwarts initiation scroll still held his name. Albus felt a brief flash of worry before he stored it away in the deepest recesses of his mind.

"Harry, why don't we go a few doors down? I'll take you to the Owl Emporium, and we can see about getting you a pet, ok?" He asked, trying to placate the small boy. He watched as those wide Emerald eyes narrowed just a sliver, but the boy nodded, and Albus would take what he could get. The elder man nodded genially, reaching out and taking the very small and very fragile right hand of the boy into his own.

Harry allowed it only because he didn't want to be here any longer. He didn't necessarily need more animals in the house, since he already had so many in his bedroom, but he enjoyed as much company as he could get, and if he was being honest the idea of a gift just for him was utterly pleasing after years of receiving only copies of what Charlus got.

The two walked in silence, exiting the wand shop and criss crossing through the crowd of busy people rushing to and fro. Harry was uncomfortable holding the old man's hand, since he barely knew him. However, Harry was pliant in the elderly man's grip. Harry knew to stay still when an adult held his hand, to stay near to them. Godfather did the same thing with him often when they made visits to the Alley. James had also done the same for Charlus, though the boy usually complained that he was getting too old to be having his hand held...

Harry was drawn from the silence of his mind when they stopped suddenly in front of a towering shop filled to the brim with screeching animals of all kinds. For Harry, someone who could understand the animals instinctually, it felt like being hoarded by an angry mob screeching for release. None of the animals seemed to happy within the confines of the wire cages and glass tanks, but the cashier, a stout old man with a wide build and a thick nose, seemed as though he couldn't care any less. He wasn't even bothered by the enormous racket the animals made from their confinement!

But Harry was. He didn't like the calls of, "Too small!" and "Let me go!" that he heard coming from each and every crevice of the room. And then, when the two (the boy and the elderly man, that is) crossed the threshold into the store everything seemed to go suddenly quiet, startling the shop owner from his reverie.

The animals were, no doubt, responding to the heavy aura of magic that Albus Dumbledore gave off, and next to a magic as pure as Harry's own he thought that it certainly must have been a spectacle for them. It wasn't often such strong wizards came into the shop, searching for mere pets and mail carriers.

Harry was used to such a reaction in his presence, and showed no outwards emotion. At his side the old man smiled at the shop keeper, who welcomed them heartily with a single, "Good afternoon!" and a wild gesture to the shelves around the shop. The short man spoke once more saying, "If ya need help findin anythin, don't hesitate ta ask!" before settling back into the plush chair behind the counter.

Albus gave a small snort replying simply with, "Thank you, my dear man."

He led Harry to a set of cages along the walls containing all sorts of breeds of dogs, cats, and kneazles. There were kneazle kittens as well, which Harry was quite drawn to. They were positively adorable! They were fluffy, and rolled over one another. Their ears were huge, and the tips of their tails were like large balls of fluff!

However, as adorable as they were nothing could compare to the small puppy in the last tank on the far right of the small wall. Harry was instantly drawn to the fluffy creature, which looked to be some mix of shiba inu and husky. The only difference between this dog and those of the muggle world was the fact that, instead of the normal number of heads; one, this dog had three. It was a bright orange in color with husky markings and a creamy stomach. The little beast looked, quite literally, like a walking ball of fluff, and in the time Harry had begun staring at it had trotted up to the glass.

All three of the Lupine heads had large ears that, while they stood erect, flopped around when the heads moved. Each small mouth had a long tongue hanging out, and each head licked at the glass excitedly. The long, curly tail behind the canine wagged furiously, causing the small body to wag with it, and the front paws of the puppy were up against the glass. The little cerebrus puppy was a male, and was about the length of Harry's arm with its tail included, standing at nearly a foot tall.

One head, the middle, exclaimed, "Pick us! Pick us!" while the others yipped out things like, "Shhhhh, be quiet! They don't understand us!" and "Look at the pretty fur on him!"

Harry was utterly certain he'd never seen a more perfect animal, and pressed his hands lightly against the glass, over lapping them with the small paws of the three headed puppy.

-(scene break - Albus POV)-

Albus let out a small chuckle, watching as the boy's emerald eyes sparkled in delight. The boy was paying rapt attention to the cerebrus in the cage at the opposite end of the wall, seemingly enraptured with the small creature. Albus padded over to the store owner, smiling happily at him. The boy's delight was almost palpable in the air.

"How much is the cerebrus?" He asked, a little wary of buying the boy such a large animal.

The man looked up at him, glancing quickly at the happy child before his eyes softened just the smallest bit. "Eh, I'll give 'im to ya' for four galleons. He's a runt, won't grow much bigger than five 'r six feet, an' I need ta get rid of 'I'm anyway..." He trailed off a bit, standing from the chair and waddling over to where Harry was pressing his hands against the glass.

Albus walked behind, watching as the man opened the cage and lifted the excited puppy out and plopped him into the small boy's arms. The heads enthusiastically licked at anything they could reach, which meant the boy's joyous face and happy grin were bathed in slobber, but it didn't seem to deter him. If anything it egged him on, prompting him to use his free hand to pat the puppy's heads individually.

Albus payed the fee and led the boy down the road to Honeydukes. He introduced the boy to chocolate frogs (which he'd never had, surprisingly) and lemon drops. The boy thought the frogs were good, very rich and sweet, but he didn't much like the tart fruity candies. He didn't really like sour things, period, but Albus seemed happy to watch him eat them, so he swallows about two before he politely declined another.

This was the first day he realized that, as often as Ablus Dumbledore ignored him, he might not be so bad. It was also the first time he was not jealous of his brother, who ended up with a thick, stout wand made of oak with a dragon heart string core. Harry spent the rest of that day hand in hand with Remus, clutching the leash of his new dog, who he had named Fenris, and talking amicably with Dumbledore.

It was the best birthday he'd had thus far.

-(end chapter)-

Author Note: Once again I want to apologize. I don't want to give up the fic, but if any of you would like to make stories that are similar I wouldn't mind. I also wouldn't mind if you wanted to use the first few chapters of this story and took the plot in a different direction. If you do just leave a line in the comments so that I can post it with the next chapter. I'm sorry to all those that were angry about me not wanting to finish it. Quite honestly my only excuse is writers block; I have no idea where this story is going so currently this is merely an experiment. I didn't want anyone to be mad about me dropping this fic, and I think it's ok so far, so I'm hoping to keep it going. Just know that updates won't be every week. I'm hoping to have them be at least twice a month, but since the updates are so sporadic I wanted to give others the chance to create their own versions of it as well. I also believe the chapters will be shorter, since I have less time to write them than I did the first two, but I hope you enjoy it regardless.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Wow! So many reviews! Thank you all so much! I apologize for it having been a while since I last updated, but I type all my stories on my iPad, and I didn't have enough storage to back up pages in iCloud so all my progress for all my stories and school projects was deleted, which means I had to start all over, which is why it's taken me so long. I was also having some trouble deciding where I wanted to go with this chapter. I decided to make this chapter one that shows Harry's progress between the last chapter up to just before he starts at Hogwarts, which will be in the next chapter (Yay!). Once again, thank you all for the support; I really appreciate it. I'd also like to hear about any suggestions for further within the story, so if you have anything you'd like to see or read about leave it in the reviews and I'll take it into account when writing future chapters. Thanks and I hope you guys enjoy the chapter!~

WARNING: CHILD ABUSE is a big factor in this chapter, so reader discretion is advised. Thank you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter (obviously). Anything non-canon is my own personal opinion/wish/add on.

Ch. 4

Severus was a very prideful person; prideful and indignant, and he most certainly did not enjoy when others undermined him, especially his intelligence. This, of course, was the reason that he found himself seething in front of Potter and his miscreant son 'Charlie' (for he did not consider Harry to be James' son; they looked, acted, and even sounded nothing alike). The elder twin had, apparently, been dragged down to Diagon Alley to help 'visit and reclaim' Harry who, at the age of ten, had a small apprentice job within the apothecary working side by side with Severus to make mild pain and fever reducing potions and some healing balms.

Potter had been reluctant to let his youngest work with him, but after considering it (and listening to a week of Hadrian's ceaseless and out of character begging) he had finally agreed, much to Severus' pleasure. Severus had practically raised the younger potter, and was very proud of the fabulous job he'd done. The boy was smart as a whip, found solace in books, and was a budding Slytherin in the making, though the boy still hadn't lost his compassion and wonder in life. Yes, indeed, Severus was very proud of himself...

Unfortunately his godson was still very lonely. Hadrian, of course, had Draco at his every beck and call, who would lavish him in attention whenever he required it, but Severus knew from experience that it wasn't healthy for the child to have merely one friend. Children were social creatures, as much as he loathed to admit it, and needed the attention that their small, developing minds required.

Of course, this isn't to say Hadrian was perfect. In fact the little boy had a strange tendency to act strictly against authority (aside from Severus, Remus, and occasionally Albus) which Severus thought was due to his parent's lack of involvement in his life. Severus could take on the role of proud father, worried mother, and anything in between, but no matter what he did it wouldn't be the same as the boy's true parents rewarding or praising him. If Hadrian were an orphan this may have been different, as the boy would have been more impressionable in that state, but as he was he was irrevocably attached to his birth parents, even if he consciously denied it.

Severus wanted nothing more than to take in the damn brat that had melted the ice set around his heart from his last betrayal of Lily. The boy had been raised by him, and read like him, and walked like him, and talked like him, not Potter. The boy was his unofficial son, and whether or not he expressed it to the child it was what he truly felt. Severus wasn't a touchy feely man, and even in the presence of his favorite godson he wasn't ever really a soft person, but he was certainly more fond of, and even occasionally tender with, the small boy.

Hadrian wasn't hard to like. He was short with long black hair and pretty emerald eyes with a sweet smile to match, and on top of that he was a shy little thing with the intellect of a near genius. He was beyond seventh year intelligence at only age ten! However, he wasn't without his strange quirks. He often lost himself in daydreams, and still had trouble breathing when exerting himself to certain lengths. His magic was also a bit unstable. It tended to react in whatever way it interpreted its owner's emotions, which meant it could cuddle against the magic of others, and could also repel in the same way. It was actually rather amusing watching the boy when he was happy, since the air around him nearly vibrated with magic, creating a pleasant humming feeling not unlike a feline's pur.

Severus actually found the child's magic very interesting, and comforting in a way that could not be replicated by anything else he'd ever experienced. Actually, Hadrian's Magic seemed to be reacting to his from the other room. Severus' magic, since he had grown agitated, had been swirling ominously about him, much like a storm or the potions he loved to brew. Hadrian's, in contrast, reacted kindly and mixed with his, soothing it and, in the process, soothing Severus himself.

His shoulders, which had been bunched when the father-son couple had first come in, relaxed sufficiently. He glared down the bridge of his nose at James' miscreant of an heir. Charlus Potter was a brat, one who thought himself entitled to the world, and Severus despised the boy with every ounce of his being. He was a carbon copy of his father, with little to none of Lily's traits in him aside from the pleased grin he gave on occasion.

However, all Severus could see at the moment was James, since the stupid dunderheads child was glaring right back at him. He harshened his dark stare, which caused the boy to falter for a second before scooting slightly closer to his father. Inwardly Severus snickered at the boy, but outwardly he merely let his eyes flicker upwards to the elder of the two.

"Can I help you?" He sneered. Severus eyes sharpened as he watched his boyhood enemy's lip curl, as though he had tasted something particularly bad. Figures that Potter would wear such an expression when watching him. Thankfully Severus' own godson looked and acted nothing like either of his parents, a blessing in Severus' opinion.

Where Lily was stubborn Hadrian was compliant (at least with him), and where his father was arrogant Hadrian was humble. Severus could even relate to the quiet boy in some ways. His own intellect had far surpassed that of many children his age when he was little, and it caused a distinct rift between him and his peers. It was an issue that was never truly resolved, even to this day. In fact, Severus still faced issues of prejudice from older potions masters who thought themselves above him, so he knew the loathing Hadrian must feel amongst his age group.

That loathing wasn't something he wanted for his godson, which was why he'd introduced the boy to Draco early on. The both of them would face enormous prejudice, but despite all of the trials they would go through at least they had one another. That was the only reason he'd ever consider giving up his most precious godson to his pompous one. The two didn't have much in common, accept for their love of flying and their gift in potions, but that didn't seem to matter to either of them. They got along marvelously anyway.

Surprisingly enough, even Draco's parents seemed to like and dote upon Hadrian. Narcissa had taken to having the small boy address her as 'Aunt Cissy', however Lucius merely had the boy address him as , which was a step down from the title 'Lord' that he required most others to address him by. They always got the boy birthday and Christmas presents, even if they were simple, and made sure to send post cards when they traveled. It was a strange change from the cold family they projected themselves as, but certainly not unwelcome.

Severus personally thought that the image the Potters projected of the perfect, happy family made him more nauseous than the Malfoy's ever could, despite the bad light they were put in for being a 'Dark' Wizarding family. Speaking of, the eldest Potter looked ready to ring his neck, which, although amusing, was also distracting him from concentrating on Hadrian's calming magic, thus only serving to irritate him further.

"I am here to pick up my son." James practically sneered at him. Severus' gaze only hardened at the word 'son'. James father was many things to Hadrian; Prongs the deer, an occasional playmate, and, once upon a time, maybe his dad, but he certainly wasn't anymore. Severus had raised the child; Hadrian was his in everything except blood, and that could have been easily rectified with many a potion if he truly wanted it... To bad it was against the law... Perhaps if the Potter's weren't such a well known family he would attempt to spirit the boy away? It was a most amusing thought...

Severus glided away from the counter, towards the back of the shop where Hadrian was peacefully bottling his latest creation; a mild numbing cream for burns and rashes. The boy looked up when Severus rapped lightly on the door frame with his knuckles. Severus felt his heart warm at the shy smile sent his way, and reciprocated it with a small inclination of his head.

"Your father and brother are here to pick you up." He stated, his tone less harsh now that he was staring at the source of his worry. In all his years he had never loved someone quite so profoundly as he loved Hadrian, to whom he was a parent, a guardian, a teacher, and a friend all in one.

Hadrian nodded to him, sighing as he placed his apron on a nearby hook and letting his hair fall from the bun he'd placed it into and back into its intricate braid. The boy wore a simple white button up shirt and black slacks; it was simple yet sophisticated, and matched the outfit Severus himself wore. The only difference was that the boy's shirt was just a bit more rumpled, and his sleeves were pulled up to his elbows, but that was to be expected after just having finished brewing.

Hadrian glided next to him, the boy's head barely reaching his waist as they went. Harry didn't notice, or maybe he didn't care, and looked towards his sire and the Potter heir. Charlus' hair was a fine chestnut, and the boy still had some baby fat on him, but all in all he'd grown to be a 'strapping young lad' as James liked to say. The two could have been twins if not for the height and age difference. Only the color of their hair separated them.

Severus frowned just a bit, magic beginning to swirl as he felt the uneasy tremble of his godson's magic beside him. Severus' magic instinctively reached out towards the boy's, rubbing against it like a cat to a corner. His magic left a faint mark there, an aura, that was similar to the scent marking of a feline; he was staking his claim, which he did each and every time the boy left his side. That way if anyone were to see or feel the child's magic they would know the boy was under his protection, and hopefully they would shy away.

Hadrian seemed to notice, and rubbed his magic gently against his elder's, unknowingly mimicking the 'scenting' process as he did so. Severus laid a calming hand atop his head in farewell before giving Hadrian a small nudge towards Prongs and Prongslet, whom looked at him too excitedly for his liking. What could possibly so important that they had to come down to the alley and interrupt his valuable time with his Godfather?

Harry sighed lightly, walking gracefully towards the Potter family Head, smile dropping clean off his face and eyes simmering beyond the naturally warm feeling they gave off. "Prongs, Charlus." He addressed them each with a gentle inclination of his head. The two beamed happily down at him, and Harry had to fight back an instinctual jerk when Charlus abruptly linked his left arm through Harry's right.

"Come on, Harry! Dad's taking us to go look at the new broom!" Charlus nearly skipped forward, dragging poor Harry behind him. Thankfully Harry managed to keep his footing and steadily glided alongside the excitable boy.

"It's called the Nimbus 2000! It's the fastest broom yet!" Was exclaimed. The sentence was followed by a dreamy sigh. "Dad says I might be able to get one next year. He says that Grandpa might make an exception and allow me to play if I'm good enough!" And boy did Harry think that was unfair. Draco had more talent than Charlus on a broom. Hell, Harry had more talent on a broom, and he was only allowed to fly with Draco and under his Godfather's strict super vision! The only reason Dumbledore would let him play was because he knew the boy personally and because, of course, Charlus was the Boy-Who-Lived, and was therefore a hero and deserved nothing less than the best...

What a load of shit.

"Dad says he'll come to all my games, too! And you'll be there, and mom'll be there, and Remus is teaching Muggle studies next year, so he'll be there too!" Harry frowned slightly before smiling just a little. Remus was teaching? Well, maybe school wouldn't be so bad after all... Draco was a very good friend, but every once in a while he needed to have someone to just listen to him whine. Godfather would reprimand him for that, and would undoubtedly get annoyed. Draco would listen, but in the end he'd try to do something rash to solve the 'issue', which certainly wasn't what Harry wanted. That left good old Uncle Remus, who had been his shoulder to cry on since he could remember.

Remus was so very kind to him. Maybe the man would be able to help save his sanity throughout the school year? After all, he may have been antisocial, but he certainly didn't like being lonely. Sure he could survive; he'd done it for years, but he didn't like the solitary existence he had without Draco and Godfather and Uncle Remus...

"Look at it! Look at it!" Was practically screeched right beside his ear. Harry flinched away from the blaring sounds, tugging his arm away from his brother's in the process. Thankfully the excitable child was much too busy to notice; he was further preoccupied with the racing broom beyond the stole front window. A small crowd of children gathered around it with Charlus at its front, having shoved his way there to gape at the equipment.

The store wasn't yet open. The sports shop opened at noon on the weekends, and considering it was Saturday that meant the alley was already packed enough as is. It was only eleven thirty at the moment, but Harry had no doubt they'd be waiting there until the shop opened so his father and brother could purchase the new broom, which they nearly salivated over. The rest of the crowd also seemed quite taken with the piece of wood.

Personally Harry thought the broom didn't matter if the flier wasn't adequate, and while Charlus had at least an idea of what he was doing Charlus certainly wasn't a genius like Harry (and yes, Harry would give himself enough credit; he was certainly a good flier). Unfortunately James didn't seem to notice that his son was only average. James wanted him to be a top notch Seeker, a position the boy was ill suited for considering he was a little on the heftier side and was quite tall for his age. Harry thought he'd be a better Beater than anything, but perhaps that was merely him being rebellious...

No, it really wasn't. He knew he was right; he wouldn't go back on his word. And, in all honesty, he was very angry. Prongs brought him down here to watch as the two of them purchased brooms, and then to perhaps go get ice cream before he went and rejoined Severus!? No! He'd much rather be back at the apothecary, brewing peacefully in the back room and listening to the steady thrumming of Severus' fingers against the counter top and the ticking of he clock against the far wall.

That would have been much more fun, in his opinion, than some stupid trip that he wasn't even supposed to be apart of! Prongs probably just felt bad for him. Prongs was a bit of a cover-Dad, meaning everyone thought he was the perfect father. In fact, to Charlus he might have been, but not to Harry. Harry remembered times in his childhood where he would go for hours, sometimes even days, without seeing his parents. Sometimes they forgot to feed him, and while it wasn't intentional it still hurt him terribly.

He also distinctly remembered several thrashings he'd gotten in the past, ones he thought were a bit too harsh to be punishment and were borderline sadistic. The first of these had occurred when Charlus had run into him and tripped over his own feet, tumbling down the stairs and breaking his leg. The older sibling claimed Harry had pushed him and Prongs had belted him for a half an hour straight leaving his thighs and buttocks covered in red and purple welts, and even a bit of blood from broken skin.

Harry wasn't allowed to use healing creme and he hadn't sat right for two weeks. He learned to keep his mouth shut after that. Granted, he didn't think Prongs knew just how much force he was putting behind the belt. He also knew that his parents were more fond of Charlus, and that spanking was considered a common punishment. Considering his parents hadn't ever done it before then he suspected they didn't really know how harsh they were being and assumed the punishment was normal. Harry hadn't spoken out against them in fear of a longer belting session.

Harry also hadn't told Severus. He was thoroughly embarrassed, and considering the beltings became more often they simply became a normality in his life. Prongs and Lily never indicated anything was wrong, and they were kind enough to him when they actually remembered him, so he assumed that they cared and thought they were doing what was best for him. He'd been belted severely enough to bleed at least thirty times that he could remember. A small amount of those times his father had been drunk and his mother had been out with his brother (having gone on one of their 'bonding' trips).

Harry didn't know why Prongs didn't seem to like him until his sire actually started complaining to him during one of the sessions. Apparently Prongs didn't like that Harry never called him Dad, didn't like that he was always with Severus. Harry thought that was almost ironic, considering the man never went out of his way to actually talk to him...

But the worst belting by far had been when Prongs found out about his friendship with Draco. He still remembered the day rather vividly and he suspected he always would. That was the day he stopped looking at Prongs like a stranger and began looking at him as more of a tyrant. He still had scars from that day, thicker than the other, thin scars that lined his thighs.

The day started out normal. He'd accompanied his parents on a small shopping trip to the Alley. The only difference had been when Charlus had gotten an ugly look on his face while staring at one of the other patrons inside the book store. Harry had stolen a quick glance and had seen , who seemed impervious to Charlus' death stare and was enraptured with Draco, who was puffing with pride and animatedly explaining something to his father.

Draco must have felt the eyes on him, since he gave a quick glance in Harry's direction. Upon seeing him his eyes had practically glowed, and he'd dashed to his side, unaware of Charlus. Draco had swept him into a friendly hug and had started up a string of chatter, which Harry had hesitantly reciprocated. Charlus had a strange look on his face the whole time the two chattered, as though he'd eaten a particularly sour lemon.

When he'd gotten him that night he found out that Charlus had told his parents, who forbid him to ever see the Malfoy heir ever again. They demanded to know who had introduced them and, out of fear he'd loose his Godfather, Harry claimed he'd met the fair haired boy at Diagon Alley on one of his routine shopping trips. They bought it easily, but Harry had payed the price of associating with the 'enemy' ten fold. His shoulders had thin lines of satin pink, scars that had never truly faded, and his lower back and thighs matched brilliantly.

His back and sides were a criss crossing mixture of said lines. They created curling patterns of silvery pink tissue comprised of thin, needle like lines all held together in a mass disarray. Harry passed out from blood loss at the time, and even he could see that his parents had been terrified when it had happened. They truly hadn't meant to hurt him so bad, merely to teach him a lesson. After that Prongs treated him nearly like glass, and his mother made him cookies and rubbed cool ointment into his back.

In some, sick way he'd enjoyed it. For once he'd finally had his parents utter focus, utter attention... At least until Charlus had come in a half an hour later crying over a scraped knee that he'd gained from falling off his broom outside, which drew their worried attention to him. It was at this time Harry had taken his leave and had retreated to his chambers.

Once there he took a while to merely cry. The strange bout of catharsis proved soothing and Harry let it continue another half an hour more before Fenris joined him on his bed, whimpering and licking at his face in an attempt to sooth him. This was the first day he wished he'd never been born. Fenris and a few of the elderly boas spent the rest of the day curled around their master, each head taking turns to comfort him with whimpers and licks and coos as well as sworn promises of justice (from the snakes).

Despite that time, however, Harry continued to see Draco when he went with his Godfather. Draco assumed Harry's parents knew of and approved their friendship, but the look on 's face when he learned of the confrontation (bar the belting) was sour and dark. approached him, asking him what truly happened, but Harry gave him the same reaction he'd given Draco; a small shrug and a quick statement of "nothing much" to end the conversation before it started. had given him an inquisitive glance, but had ultimately left the topic well enough alone.

Harry never told anyone else of the beltings, of the times his parents forgot to feed him. He knew Draco's parents never did such things, but Draco was a well-mannered single child, someone they could dedicate all their time to, and Harry was second to his brother. According to his parents beltings (or spankings as they called them) were actually very common. According to them one of Charlus' friends Ron lived in a family of seven children where the 'spankings' occurred almost everyday. Harry considered himself lucky he wasn't a Weasely.

Harry frowned, gasping when the crowd in front of the Quidditch store suddenly lurched forward as a whole. Had it really been a half an hour already? His frown deepened when he realized he had to have been having flashbacks, or daydreams as Godfather called them. Godfather said he had to yell to get Harry to refocus once he was lost to one of them, something his Godfather seemed to be very worried about. Harry wrote them off as harmless; they didn't really hamper his everyday life, so why should he consider them bad for his health as Severus had suggested?

Harry shook his head a bit to clear those thoughts from his mind and strode forward languidly at a steadily measured pace. He frowned a bit at the rough, uncouth nature of the store's other costumers. Harry thanked the heavens Severus had taught him such impeccable manners. He'd hate to come off as a ruffian as many of the people here did...

Prongs and Charlus were already at the counter. Prongs right arm draped securely around Charlus' shoulders, holding the kid who already came up to his chest closer to him. Charlus didn't seem to notice the intimate touch and kept chattering, the domestic scene made Harry want to hit someone, preferably one of those two idiots, but since Harry came up to just above Charlus' bicep he figured it might not be such a good idea to antagonize the elder twin.

Harry nearly grumbled to himself. The little children dragging their parents around the store reminded him entirely too much of a past he couldn't have and a future that didn't await him. He brooded silently near the door way of the large shop, eyes flickering around until they rested snugly on a shelf in the far corner. This shelf, like many of the others, held a Nimbus 2000.

It was Harry's first real look at the piece of equipment. The broom was handsome, surely. The wood was a deep, rich brown color and gleamed with polish in the sun. The twigs trailing from the back were neatly trimmed and curved to perfection. Harry thought it was quite a sight, but he looked away after a second, watching as Prongs and Charlus approached him. The two smiled widely at him, and Charlus rushed forward to quickly show the broom off to Harry. The black haired boy sighed heavily, indulging his elder sibling who was chatting about their up coming birthday, which would take place in just two weeks. They would be eleven, and would receive their Hogwarts letters this year, a blessing for little Harry.

-(page break - James POV)-

James watched his two boys proudly. In the span of a single year Charlus had finished his first year studies and was well into his second year. James thought his eldest son would be more than prepared for the coming year, but Harry, however...

Well, from what he heard about his son (which was little considering the boy was almost always with 'Snivellus' and the somber man refused to talk to James unnecessarily) the boy was a genius. Now, James didn't really know what exactly that entailed, but he hoped it meant he was at Charlus' level. He wanted both of his boys prepared for hell and high tide. After all, Hogwarts was both a sanctuary and a mine field; sure, the Gryffindoors would undoubtedly protect his boys once they joined the house, but the Slytherins were nasty, and he knew Charlus, while smart, wasn't exactly the sharpest tack in the box.

His eldest tended to jump into situations he couldn't handle, which showed blatantly in his training when he exhausted his magical core. James hoped that by forcing his two boys to hang out more together that Harry would rub off on his elder brother, and perhaps help the chestnut haired boy mellow out.

Unfortunately, Harry didn't seem to like Charlus very much, or even James for that matter. This, of course, both hurt and worried James. Watching his little boy interact with his family was like watching a fawn shy away from a wolf pack. James wanted the boy to be comfortable with them; sure, they'd had their differences, and there were many times James could remember watching his baby boy cry and feeling awful that he'd put so much force behind his spankings, but he loved his son dearly. He thought the boy just needed discipline and perhaps more one on one time with him and Charlus. Even the elder twin had expressed that he missed his younger brother, who they saw maybe once or twice on a good day.

Part of James knew he was an awful father to the boy, and wouldn't blame Harry if the little one simply hated him... In fact part of him felt his son would have been justified in doing just that. However, a much larger part proclaimed that he was merely doing what was best; even the papers agreed he was a brilliant father!

Another, doubtful part of him whispered that he may have taken things too far with his youngest son. When Molly had told him spanking was a very sufficient way to make naughty children behave he'd taken her words to heart. He expressed his concerns of Harry becoming jealous of Charlus, and regaled her with tales of the two getting into fights more and more often. Molly told him the boy simply needed a few spankings to set him straight, and James had believed her (after all, she'd raised a fine group of children).

Sadly for James, he hadn't known exactly what spanking entailed. Of course, he'd heard stories from the younger Weasleys about their parents using hairbrushes, etc. to get the point across, but a part of him didn't want to do such a thing to his little boy. Hadrian was so well mannered... But he did have a tendency to ignore his parents... He was very defiant when he wanted to be.

After the incident where Harry pushed Charlus down the stairs he simply couldn't take it and resorted to corporal punishment. He'd used a belt and had hit the boy about ten times. James had allowed Harry the liberty of keeping his briefs on, but even those were a bit tattered when the session had ended. Harry had been crying heavily by then, whimpering in pain and discomfort, but James didn't think too much of it. The boy seemed to have learned his lesson; he didn't back talk anymore... Then again, he didn't really talk to any of his family members at all after that...

But it wasn't like James had done anything wrong! The boy wasn't severely injured afterwards, he merely had a smarting bottom that would provide him a great deal of discomfort for a few days... Or, at least, that was what James thought.

He'd taken to 'spanking' the boy more and more after the first time seemed effective. Sure, it was cruel, but it worked, and James wanted his boys to succeed to the best of their abilities and keep the Potter name pure. They were a proud family, and they should carry themselves as such!

Harry tended to flinch at the jingle of metal and the sound of skin on skin after the first spanking, and James thought perhaps his son had learned his lesson... But once again the smallest trickle of doubt worked its way into his mind. The boy had only ever bled from the spankings once that he was aware of; when he and Lily had learned of his association with the Malfoy whelp. Now, Lily hadn't ever approved of the spankings, but by that point even she had been onboard; the Malfoy whelp would not have anything to do with either of his sons ever again, that he would make sure of. And if his son flinched away from him, from adults in general, after that particularly terrifying experience well... It was necessary to ensure a good future for his son.

James frowned a bit, watching Harry squirm uncomfortably as Charlus linked their arms once more. Harry's face held something of a grimace, and, perhaps it was just his imagination, but his youngest son's breathing seemed to have picked up. If he listened closely he could hear small puffs of air leaving the boy's weak lungs in rapid succession, as though he were terrified...

Charlus didn't seem to notice though, and after a while Harry seemed to calm down, so James left the two well enough alone, merely trotting behind them and letting his eyes roll over the crowds on either side of the street. He caught sight of wide eyed children staring at Charlus, pointing excitedly at him and whispering behind clasped hands. Some of the elder women smiled and giggled over the two brothers as they tromped down the street.

He watched as his eldest puffed with pride under the stares and grateful whispers, but Harry seemed to wilt in apprehension. James frowned at the scene. His younger son was worrying away at his lower lip with his teeth, rolling the flesh in between them. Harry's large emerald eyes were downcast and his free hand played with the braid laying across his right shoulder. The black hair glittered blue and purple in the light, and James was almost certain he caught more than one 'appreciating' glance shot at his youngest.

Those looks really pissed him off, and he scowled at the young men and women who batted their eyelashes at his ten (soon to be eleven) year old son. They looked away sheepishly once they caught his glare, each one looking abashed. James snorted at their behavior, dismissing it quickly in favor of dragging the boys into the ice cream shop, smiling slightly.

-(page break - Harry POV)-

Charlus was an idiot. This was the only logical conclusion he could come to. His stupid prat of a brother was sitting there, chattering on and on about Hogwarts and all of his 'friends', fully aware that Harry had none. Harry's blood boiled as his brother continued his monologue, picking dismissively at the single scoop of chocolate ice cream in front of him. Watching his brother pig out on a large ice cream sundae had made him sick to his stomach.

"Ron is going to be so excited! He likes Quidditch a lot, too, but I don't really think he's all that good. Of course, you shouldn't tell people that to their face; Dad always says that's rude. Right Dad?" Charlus looked to his father, who was also eating a large sundae, watching his sons interact with a very critical gleam in his eye.

"Of course, but remember, Charlie, few are as talented as you, and Ron doesn't have a broom to practice with, so it isn't really his fault that he doesn't have a lot of experience." James said, sounding vaguely like Dumbledore when he talked about the 'greater good'.

"I guess..." Was the mumbled utterance from Charlus, who continued picking at his ice cream. "But what about Malfoy? You said he might be good, too... I mean, not as good as I am, but still good. Do you think he might be a better Seeker?" Charlus glanced at his father, a slightly nervous quirk to his mouth. Harry had to stifle a laugh. Of course Draco would make a better Seeker! The boy was thinner and slightly shorter than Charlus as well as ten times more skilled!

"No, of course not, son. You're a very good player, excellent in fact. Isn't that right, Harry?" James glanced at his youngest from the corner of his eye, offering the smaller boy a large smile. He'd noticed Harry hadn't really been eating his ice cream, and thought maybe the boy was lost in another day dream and merely needed to be brought into the conversation.

Harry glanced disinterestedly at Prongs, eying him slightly nervously, shifting in his seat. He took a moment to choose his words carefully. "I think that Draco is skinnier and smaller, which makes him more agile on a broom. You'll have to gain a lot of skill and speed to beat him. However, since you have the Nimbus I don't think that will be an issue, and don't forget to take into consideration that most first years don't play anyway, which means you likely won't have to worry about him until next year at the earliest..." Harry deduced, watching his table companions with cool indifference.

James gave him a quick grin and nodded quickly to Charlus, "Of course, see? You have plenty of time to improve if you feel inadequate." James gave his eldest one of the widest grins he could manage, "And if you're really worried about it then we can work more on your flying, ok?"

Charlus seemed to consider the offer for a second before agreeing heartily and nodding like a bobble head. Harry merely huffed quietly and rolled his eyes, allowing his gaze to wander out the window while the two finished their ice cream. He took a few small spoonfuls of his own treat before he found his stomach churning. All he wanted was to rejoin his Godfather in the apothecary for the day, and then to retire to his own chambers, and perhaps discuss the day's happenings with Fenris and his boa friends. Fortunately for Harry it was only about twenty more minutes before he found himself strolling quickly back into the small, strange smelling shop.

"Harry!" James called to him quickly, causing him to pause mid step. Harry's eyes narrowed just a sliver before he turned around, coming face to face with Prongs, who swept him into a rough hug quickly before releasing him. "Be back at home by five; dinner is at six and I want you home before dark." He stated, patting the boy's head lightly before turning to take his elder son home.

Harry watched enviously, sighing a bit before he felt a long, muscular arm draped over his own shoulder, causing him to smile a bit. Harry's eyes flickered to his left taking in the form of his extremely tall Godfather. Severus wasn't staring at him, but was instead watching as James left with narrowed eyes, looking almost angrily after him. Harry snorted at the notion, burrying his face lightly into his Godfather's thick shoulder and taking in his warmth and reassurance. He inhaled the scent of forest musk and vanilla, along with something uniquely Severus, before smiling wider and tugging on the elder man's dress shirt.

His Godfather shot him a short look before sighing himself. The two walked back inside, content to brew for the rest of the day. Harry went home at five and was able to read for about an hour before dinner was presented by Lily, who served everyone with a smile and asked about their days. Harry was content to loose himself within his own thoughts, eating mechanically and not noticing the worried looks both his father and mother shot at him.

Harry went to bed that night clean, full, content, and wrapped in a mass of scales and fur, much like every other night.

-(end chapter)-

Author's Note: I am very sorry for not having this chapter up sooner! I was having writer's block issue and on top of that my iPad crashed and deleted what little progress I had, causing me to have to start over, which on,y made things harder. I would also like to say that, while Harry's parents do abuse him, they don't necessarily mean it. You know how when you get angry you a,ways want to have something on hand to punch or kick or yell at? It's similar to that. In this story both Lily and James are rather young. Lily gave birth to the twins at seventeen, which wasn't clearly stated earlier in the story. At the time they weren't really ready for children, and even to this day both remain childish and ignorant to how to truly deal with kids. This can also be seen with how they spoil Charlus, seeing as that is clearly not the correct way to raise a child. I just wanted to clarify that for anyone that thought it strange. Also, considering their friends with the Weasely's, who do use corporal punishment within this story, they are also more comfortable with it. That isn't to say that every wizarding family does in the fic; the Malfoys surely don't. I just wanted to make sure everyone understood that. Thanks for reading and please no flames! I'll have the next chapter out ASAP.


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